


Kintsukuroi

by cream_pudding



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Background Relationships, Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Character Growth, Chronic Illness, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional Support Animals, Falling In Love, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, M/M, Military, Oral Sex, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Recovery, Rehabilitation, Self-Esteem Issues, Sex Worker, Sexual Dysfunction, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Swearing, Vulnerable Zack Fair, heated arguments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 199,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cream_pudding/pseuds/cream_pudding
Summary: Kintsukuroi- an art and philosophy that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.***Cloud, a delivery driver, has a chip on his shoulder, which is made all the worse after getting stuck running repeated deliveries to a certain dark-haired man who is stuck in the hospital. Cloud never signed up to be an emotional support person, but Zack Fair effortlessly gets under his skin, in all the right ways possible.This is a story about love, healing, and forgiveness of oneself and others.***Update Schedule -Fortnightly until March 14th/15th - after which weekly updates start up again. ❤️
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 604
Kudos: 503





	1. Delivery, for Mr. Zack Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud enjoys his job as a delivery driver, that is until one day he is tasked with making a special delivery to a man who lies physically and mentally broken in hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to my story which I started in 2017 and have finally finished, in the epic year that is 2020.
> 
> This story has 14 chapters, and many words. Do heed the AO3 tags and Author content warnings. This story gets emotionally draining at times. There will also be explicit plot-driven smut in later chapters. 
> 
> This work is my very special baby, and I hope you will enjoy it.
> 
>  **edit:** July 28th - chapter count's jumped up as I'm splitting some existing chapters. I also feel I need to do a big Disclaimer on the Cream Pudding brand of fics for those of you who may never have come across my writing - I write pretty serious stories. Yes, they feature fluff and humour and nice things, but they tend to be wrapped in a thick blanket of angst and hurt and melodrama. There will be tears (character and definitely have been a lot of author tears). There will be cringy self-indulgent song lyrics that characters sing and you betcha Zack's gonna get his hands on a guitar at some point in the story because that is the sexiest shit. There's lots of dialogue. Lots of exposition. Lots of hurt.
> 
> I just feel like I gotta state that before anyone gets too comfortable. Read the fic tags. I've put all the super important ones in there. Or you know... just skip and read and whatever happens, happens. 😆
> 
> Anyway, that's the warning. 
> 
> Also, I made a cover for the story which you can see below.
> 
> Now for reals.... enjoy ✌️👌

Despite the lack of snow, and the winter sun hanging at its low apex, it was still cold. The frosty air gnawed and bit into the tip of Cloud’s nose. It blasted against and stiffened his gloved fingers, and caused shivers to wrack his body. Winter wasn’t the best time of year to ride his motorcycle, but his passion for his vehicle outweighed the seasonal discomfort. Rugged up with a scarf under his helmet, multiple shirts, a sweater under his riding jacket, and thermals beneath his leather pants, Cloud’s teeth still chattered. He looked forward to arriving at work, where he would hop into the familiar white and blue delivery van with its air conditioner, funky smell, worn leather seating, and sticky patches all over the dashboard caused by spilled coffee.

He lived about half an hour's ride from work and arrived at the two-story brick warehouse at around midday. He rode around the back of the large, empty lot, to the garage capable of housing five vans, and parked his bike near the wall. He left his helmet hanging on the handlebars and headed through the lofty loading zone, past the only vehicle still remaining (his own) and to the door, stepping into the heated office space beyond. With a relieved sigh, he pulled his gloves off and rubbed them together, regaining warmth and feeling. 

Tifa, wearing her trademark business suit, gave the usual teasing greeting of, "Hello, Cloud. Sleep well?" which forced an unintelligible grumbled retort from him. He clocked in and headed to the left side of the sparsely decorated rectangular room. A long, mid-chest high cupboard stood along the wall with five color-coded plastic double-letter trays atop of it. The top tray housed his schedule for the day, and the bottom one held his payslips and things of that nature. A large whiteboard hung on the wall right above the cupboard with each employee’s details demarcated to line up with their specific letter-trays.

He grabbed the laminated folder containing his sheet of paper, listing addresses and delivery times, and stalked off to the van. He grabbed the held out travel mug as he passed Tifa. “Thanks,” he muttered while she smiled at him with amusement. Cloud counted his blessings that Tifa was understanding of his late starts to the day and his sporadic-yet-far-too-common absences. 

Cloud sank into his familiar seat, left the bright-pink folder on his lap, and cradled his mug. It warmed his icy hands. The strong coffee brew revitalised him from the arduous task of having woken up this morning and gotten himself out of bed. He skimmed over his list of jobs for the day at a casual pace, set his GPS, and headed off to get his workday underway.

His day consisted of a sizable amount of pick-ups and drop-offs. Small and large parcels and goods alike. Usually, he’d radio Gavin or Therone to see if he could get more jobs, but today he felt extra drained, so just stuck to what was on his sheet. He drove to familiar businesses and places, and some new locations. One of these was somewhat out of the way. Cloud took a left turn onto the freeway and headed out of the metropolitan area. The densely packed housing turned rural and then downright quaint; cows and horses dotted fields, small bakeries and one-pump gas stations came and went.

The road, though no less busy, lacked maintenance. Pot-holes, great and small, peppered it. He finally reached his destination: a giant greenhouse. He pulled into the large expansive gravel forecourt, and to his surprise found the car park almost completely full. People came and went, carrying gardening equipment and flowers of all sorts of shapes and colors. He pulled into a parking space, and got out, heading for the large glass structure. For being so out-of-the-way of the major population centers, it sure was bustling. 

Cloud entered through a set of glazed double doors, and then _another_ set of automated sliding doors to get into the building proper. He was instantly accosted by the perfuming fragrant scent of flowers, as well as a very comfortable warmth. Winter didn’t touch this botanist’s wet dream and it almost felt tropical. Cloud sneezed. Repeatedly.

He remembered that flowers weren’t his friends, though he could still appreciate the botanical marvel he found himself in. Flowers and plants of all shapes, sizes, species, and colors, grew absolutely everywhere. A lot sat in pots, but an equal number also grew right from out of the soiled and mulched ground. It smelled like earth and damp. Not a wholly unpleasant thing. It was just the flowers that got Cloud sniffling like crazy.

He sneezed again and a friendly voice sounded next to him, “Here. My flowers have that effect on some people.”

Cloud turned and took the held out tissue with a, “Thanks,” and blew his nose. Once back in control of his body's reflexes he looked at the short-in-stature woman who had spoken to him; her brunette hair was tied in a ponytail, with wavy bangs falling well past her shoulders. Her eyes, a vibrant green, sparkled and seemed enhanced by the rusty red of her mid-waist length cardigan, which sat over the top of a blue and white striped blouse. Her look of a homey farm-girl was completed by the soiled, three-quarter denim trousers and big brown boots. 

“Your flowers?' Cloud asked, "Are you the owner?”

The woman grinned brightly and gave a curt nod. She looked around, with a lot of pride. “This place is my life’s work. Growing and cultivating plants of all types has always been my dream. And of course, sharing the joy this life brings with it.” Green eyes returned to settle on Cloud once more. 

Cloud thought her rather pretty. He wasn’t sure if it was her features or her passion for her work. Whichever the case, she seemed rather too cheerful. “For a profit though,” he said, not caring to disguise the sardonic tone.

“Well of course. Girl’s gotta eat, right?” she laughed. “Name’s Aerith Gainsborough. Welcome to my greenhouse. How can I help you?” 

She stuck out her hand and Cloud took it. “Cloud Strife. I’m here to pick up a delivery,” he said with little expression to his face. Being around jovial people exhausted him. He could already feel his energy draining away and mentally scanned his brain to see if he had passed any coffee shops on the way here.

“Oh, wonderful! I’ve been expecting you. Come this way.” She turned on a dime, her ponytail swinging wildly and marched with a slight bounce to her step. 

Cloud dragged his heels as he followed.

“It’s such awful news about what happened to Zack,” she began, rather worried. “I absolutely _hate_ not being able to get to see him, but I’m flat out here. So many weddings and government ceremonies to plan for. My own delivery guys are all booked up for the next few months, and the hospital is too far away for me to get to on such short notice,” she added in a somewhat defeated mutter.

Cloud kept quiet, having absolutely no interest in starting conversations about matters he had no knowledge or interest in. 

They made their way into a large shipping container, housed off to the side. This was apparently the office area if the desk with a computer sitting on it, and the various cork boards and whiteboards propped up on portable stands, meant anything. The other thing that Cloud spotted was the very elaborate bouquet sitting on the desk.

“It should be fine,” Aerith kept talking to herself, “Besides, I’m sure he’ll have far too many visitors for me to be able to spend any quality time with him.” She strode to the desk and paused before the bouquet. With outstretched arms, she leaned against the desk, steadying herself.

The quiet which followed unsettled Cloud somewhat. The bubbly energy seemed depleted.

“Uh, is everything alright?” he tried, merely as a courtesy. Cloud heard the sniffle and saw the motion which could only be a wipe at eyes. 

Aerith turned around, cheeks ruddy and eyes glassy. She gave a weepy smile. “No. It’s not, but I hope it will be very soon. I really wish I could go be with him. He needs someone to look after him.”

“I thought you said he was in hospital. Isn’t that—”

“He needs love and nurture. From people who genuinely care about him. I know the hospital staff do their best, but they’re just staff.” She sniffled some more, then quickly grabbed a card and wrote in it. 

Cloud remained quiet, and watched on. The clock ticked loudly and Aerith’s sniffles and the scratching sound of pen on paper filled the room. 

It was over in less than half a minute and then she placed the card in the bouquet and walked the flowers over to Cloud. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like for you to make regular flower deliveries for me. I don’t know if he’s conscious or not, but I want his room to be _full_ of color. I want him to not feel alone. So please, bring this to him.” She handed the surprisingly heavy item over. “And I’d also like for _you_ to be my regular delivery guy. I don’t want Zack to have to put up with not getting to know you.”

Cloud grunted and pulled a face. “Getting to know me?”

“Yes. You’ll be my proxy.”

“I'm just a delivery guy. Not an… escort, or… _friend_ for hire,” he said with unease. Cloud definitely hadn’t signed up for this.

“I know that. I'm not asking you to do anything other than deliver my flowers to him. But when you meet him I'm sure you won't be able to avoid having conversations with him.” Aerith’s growing smile faltered and sadness swept through, robbing her of any mirth which might have burgeoned. “Oh gosh, let him be alright,” she said to no one in particular. “Tifa said it would be alright for you to check in on him regularly and to give me updates when you come to pick up the flowers.” 

“Did she now?” Cloud said with derision and barely kept the eye roll at bay.

Aerith nodded and started walking back out into the main building. Cloud continued to follow, holding the bouquet at arms length as it tickled his nose.

The pungent smell of flowers accosted Cloud once more as they made their way back to the front of the greenhouse. His eyes watered. He tried to find something to distract himself with. “You know Tifa personally?” 

“Oh yes. We’ve been friends for years. She’s told me lots about you.” Aerith threw a cheeky smile over her shoulder.

He got a sinking feeling. Without a doubt, this had all been an elaborate set-up. He let a defeated sigh slip out and wondered if this Zack guy was even an actual patient. “More like she complains about me to you.”

“Oh no. Nothing like that.” Her laugh was like the tinkling of bells. 

Cloud still knew that it was _exactly_ like that. “Well, she’s never made mention of you,” he fought back with a sulk.

His remark made Aerith spin around. Her smile radiated ever so brightly. “I’m pretty sure she has and _you_ just never listen to her,” she giggled and gently pushed her palm against his shoulder.

Cloud couldn’t refute that. It seemed like a very reasonable assumption.

“Anyway, can you just wait here for a moment. This bouquet is missing something.” Aerith dashed off, leaving Cloud’s nose to develop another irritating tickle.

The pungent floral smell aside, he also knew this whole situation reeked of _something_ , but he didn’t know what. Well, perhaps he _did_ know. _Of course_ Tifa _purposefully_ sent him on this delivery run. She was always trying to get him to be more sociable and make friends. Something which Cloud had no interest in doing. He thought it cruel to force friendship upon him with some guy who sounded bedridden. And to be fair, he felt it equally awful to force _himself_ onto other people. Cloud hoped that if this Zack guy truly was sick, that he would get well soon. That way Cloud wouldn’t have to visit for very long, saving them both the agony of playing at a fake friendship.

Aerith returned, holding a few brilliantly vibrant yellow flowers. She stuck them into the bouquet, which mostly consisted of blues and purples.

“There. Some much needed complementary opposites.” She stepped back from her creation and admired it. “I hope he’ll love it.” Worry returned to her face. “I hope he’s okay. Please tell him I’ll visit _as soon as I can_ if he’s awake.” Aerith looked like she was going to say more but clapped her mouth shut and shook her head. “No. I won’t bombard you with any more. Everything I need to tell him is in the card. Please see to it that he receives the flowers, and I look forward to seeing you next time.”

Cloud gave her a courteous nod. “Next time, then.” He knew that no amount of complaining to Tifa would get him off this roster duty. She had probably also talked to everyone else at work to make sure he couldn’t swap delivery duties. That’s how crafty she was.

* * *

The hospital Cloud drove to was a familiar destination. He parked by the loading bay, avoiding the large conglomerate of media stationed out the front of the main entrance. The hustle and bustle out the front of the hospital, though not completely foreign, was still a little strange. Cloud wondered for all of two seconds what famous or newsworthy person had ended up inside before he refocused on his job. He grabbed the bouquet and marched himself inside, making his way to the nurses’ station, as Aerith apparently hadn’t known the exact location of the recipient of her gift. He had done a fair few deliveries to the different wards in the past, which was why he received acknowledging nods as he passed.

“Oh, those are lovely. Who are they for, darl?” an elderly and a rather plump woman greeted Cloud warmly as he stood by the imposing desk.

“Evening, Barbara.” Though he didn’t have many friends, Cloud made a point to remember people’s names and to behave amicably. It's not like he hated people. It had more to do with him being too tired and exhausted most of the time to exert energy into keeping friends around. “They are for a—” he looked at the attached card for the last name. “Zack Fair.”

“Oh. He’s a right popular chap. I wish they would have sent him to a different hospital, to be honest with you. Maybe Golden Oak or Edgewater. That media pack out the front is driving everyone here crazy.”

“Huh? All those people out there are here for _him?”_ A sinking feeling swept through Cloud. He didn’t deal well with being in the limelight, not even via loose associations.

The head nurse gave a sullen nod. “The ones out the front aren’t even half of it. Military folk have been in and out of the ICU all day. Day shift have had it up to here,” she gestured well above her head, “with all the kafuffle.”

Barbara’s words caused a rush of irritation to flurry inside of Cloud. He wrinkled his nose. “Military?”

She hummed in the back of her throat and shuffled through some papers at her station. “Mr. Fair is military personnel, or I guess that should be Corporal Fair? Is that how those titles are supposed to work?”

It took everything in Cloud’s power not to dump the flowers and leave. “Don’t they have a military hospital for this kind of stuff?” he grumbled through grit teeth, already knowing that the answer was ‘yes’.

“Apparently it wasn’t good enough for the injuries he’s sustained. He’ll be needing long term care and rehabilitation, and they aren’t cut out for that.” 

“Ah—that bad, huh?” Some of the irritation quelled with a wash of sympathy.

Barbara gave a solemn nod. “Here, darl. There has been nothing else on the news all day.” She directed her gaze toward a television mounted on the wall to the right of the desk and turned the volume up a little.

Cloud hadn’t watched the news in what felt like months. It was always too depressing. “They let you watch TV?”

“Only the news channels, so we can be atop of any breaking disasters or crisis as they unfold.”

“Ah. Seems sensible enough.” Cloud turned his attention toward the news coverage. He watched the body cam footage from a battlefield. People running, gunfire, all in a vastly ambiguous and completely rubble-filled landscape. Cloud didn’t know which war this was, or where it was. He tried his hardest to not pay attention to things of that nature.

The footage went on. Shaking imagery, snaps of stillness, the bottom of the screen covered in scrolling text. Images of fallen soldiers bombarded the screen, but amongst all of it someone came charging in and pulled the fallen out and to safety. Cloud couldn’t make out what was happening exactly, but he got the idea that it was always the same someone darting in and out of cover, to collect the fallen.

Cloud keyed into the faint sound of the news reporter saying something about bravery and selfless acts of courage.

The footage eventually cut to the outside of a familiar building; Phoenix Dessert Downs; the hospital Cloud was currently in.

“Poor fool got himself riddled with more bullets and shrapnel than all of the men and women he saved. The field hospital got most of it out, and he’s had more blood transfusions than I’ve ever seen anyone else get, but they can’t give him the long term care he needs. Oh, darl. Don’t look so glum.”

Cloud startled and forced the twist from his mouth and brows, returning to his stoic neutrality. “I’ll most likely be coming here regularly, to deliver flowers to him.”

“He’s got a sweetheart, hmm?” Barbara smiled. “Here, take this pass. It will get you through to ICU and past all the military,” she said, sounding exhausted.

“Military personnel can be a right handful,” he observed and gratefully took the pass.

“It’s what day shift have been complaining about the most,” she sighed deeply.

“Bet they’re glad to hand it over to you and your crew, huh.”

“You know night shift handles pressure and unwanted riff-raff better,” she winked.

“That you do,” he gave a small smile.

Cloud took his leave from the nurses’ station, feeling exhausted from the exchange. He wandered the halls toward the ICU and passed many vending machines, all a congregation space for people in uniform. Every time another uniformed personnel came into view Cloud felt his heart-rate spike. His body jittered, unable to take the strain of the stress. He craved caffeine to get him through the ordeal. 

He detoured to a thankfully-unoccupied coffee machine and drank the burnt, bitter, and old tasting brew with a scowl as he forged ahead. He showed his pass to the appropriate authorities and was let through to the ward. 

Evening had fallen, and though the interior was brightly lit, the ward was rather hushed. Nursing staff came and went, tending to all the critical patients. Machines beeped and whirred. Quiet murmurs ran through the place like an electric undercurrent.

Cloud went in the direction he saw the most amount of people, unpleasantly confident that it was the room he was after. He stopped across the way and looked in through the glass windows, which lined the wall facing the ward. He recognized the high ranking officials’ uniforms. A lot of Sergeants of varying degrees. It was kind of impressive, but it also irritated Cloud. This whole situation was irritating and he didn’t think he’d like to make these flower deliveries a staple of his working day if _this_ was what he had to walk into every time.

He finished his coffee, tossed it in the trash, breathed deep, and went into the room to get his delivery sorted.

The buzzing murmur of conversation grew marginally louder as he opened the door and let himself in, but then it ceased in a flash, as all eyes turned onto him. 

Cloud hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since his last family get-together. He swallowed down the nerves. “Delivery, for a Mr. Zack Fair, from a Miss Gainsborough.”

“Ah, Aerith, the sweet thing. Just put them over there. Zack will be happy to see them if he wakes up,” someone, who appeared to be a Sergeant Major, said to him.

The ‘if’ wasn't lost on Cloud. He gave a curt nod and weaved through the small crowd toward the bed at the center of the room, counting the seconds before he could leave this personal Hell on Earth. He saw the bed and the sleeping figure in it. The man’s head was bandaged up and gauze plastered to his cheek. Wires and tubes went in all manner of directions, connecting the man to machines, monitors, and clear IV fluid bags, as well as bags of blood.

He hated the sight. Hated what this man had done or possibly been forced into doing all for _service._ He disconnected from the thought, not seeing the point in getting angry and agitated.

Instead, Cloud looked for somewhere to put the flowers. There was a small tray table next to the bed, which was covered in bouquets and cards. More bouquets sat on a chair, and others lined the wall to the left of the bed. Clearly, this guy wouldn’t need any more flowers. He wondered if he could convince Aerith that the hospital room was colorful enough already, and could thus spare himself any future trips back to this hospital or this room.

He supposed he would have no such luck, and instead busied himself making room on the small tray table for Aerith’s flower arrangement (which, if Cloud had to admit, was one of the nicest in the room). He positioned the card so it would also be seen if this guy ever woke up. Cloud figured himself lucky to get out of conversing with him today. Was it cruel to hope he’d never have to make conversation with this guy?

Probably. 

He looked back at the broken man lying in the bed. The bandaged head slumped toward Cloud’s direction and the man’s eyes seemed to open a small crack.

Cloud looked back toward everyone else in the room, but no one payed attention: too busy talking about tactical information; what to do about the remaining company and what honors to bestow upon the survivors, because Cloud was apparently not important enough to not talk about that kind of stuff in front of.

Cloud didn’t get what everyone was in here for if it wasn’t to help support a fallen comrade. So he decided that they probably just wanted to feel important and were there for some other self-serving purpose. He turned back toward Zack and quietly murmured, “From Aerith. She’s worried about you, and is sorry that she can’t be here right now.” 

Eyes slipped shut and it was barely visible, but Cloud thought he saw the ghost of a smile. 

He turned and left, wondering if it would be a problem that he didn’t get the delivery signed off. He didn’t care enough about it to get one from any of the Sergeants in the room, especially not when he heard a faint, “Doesn’t General Strife have a kid?"pass through the gap in the door just as he shut it.

He got out of there as fast as possible and finished his other jobs through gnawing fatigue. Tifa asked how his day had been when he came back to deliver the van and invoices. He didn’t give her more than a grunting reply before heading back out, hopping on his bike and racing back home so he could collapse on his bed and pass out.

###### 

Aerith asked for a flower arrangement to be sent every second day, which at least gave Cloud rest in between to not stress about having to be in a wholly unpalatable environment. Despite only passing through and lingering in the place for 20 minutes at most per delivery, those were still 20 minutes he would rather never have to endure in the first place. But when he saw Aerith again to pick up the next delivery, her gratitude melted Cloud’s displeasure. His heart grew heavier with each passing day that he couldn’t give her any good news in regards to the man she worried about so much. 

He detested the hospital run. It stressed him out and stress legitimately was no good for him. As the first week of doing this job passed, Cloud could feel himself becoming unwell. He always got sick when he was highly stressed, and going to the hospital was a toxic cocktail of stress for him. It didn’t matter how well he organized himself, like going in at 6 o’clock at night when there were fewer media and military sleazeballs lurking about. The late deliveries didn’t let him completely escape run-ins with the military. He took to wearing a baseball cap, pulled down over his face, but he could still feel the lingering eyes and hear the too-loud whispering rumors that he was who they all thought he was and _everything_ that came with that territory.

He wasn’t _looking_ to hear it, but he still did: ‘ _Did you hear he couldn't even finish basic training?’;_ in the hallway; _‘Did you hear he got special treatment?’;_ in the elevator; _‘Did you hear his parents pulled strings?’;_ even at the coffee station; _‘Did you hear he slept with a General?’;_ as well as passing the door into the bedridden man’s room; _‘Did you hear he got spoon-fed the entrance exam questions?’._

Each day the well of his resentment grew exponentially deeper _._ He screamed at himself to not run away, not balk at _any_ of the comments, to not dignify any of that bullshit with a response or reaction. He tried to ignore it, to not hear it, to pretend he imagined it all. But it wore on him. Every. Single. Time.

Cloud hated having to be here. Hated the military. Himself. The bed-ridden source of his misery. Why, out of all the hospitals in the world, and in particular _this city_ , did the apparent poster-boy-extraordinaire have to land in this one? Not that Cloud supposed it mattered much since Tifa somehow knew Aerith and both ladies apparently loved pushing their own agendas onto him.

He kept doing his assigned job though because Tifa (predictably) had put an embargo on anyone taking or swapping that particular job off Cloud. It did not help his mood or physical health. He could feel the onset of a head cold lingering in the back of his sinuses. The final straw seemed to break after he’d found himself in an elevator with 3 military goons who _had_ recognized him from their days in basic training, almost a decade ago. 

When Cloud got home from that ordeal he’d crashed and couldn’t get out of his bed when his alarm went off at 11 in the morning. He couldn’t face another day of doing that job, even though today, most likely, he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. The weeklong process of going through those sterile halls, seeing uniformed personnel, had completely sapped him of his already minimal pool of energy and it crescendoed today, so he slept the day and the next away. 

Tifa rang several times, checking in on Cloud, which he appreciated… when he was conscious enough to pick up the phone.

_"I'm sorry. Am I pushing you too hard? I can reduce your workload to five runs a day."_

"Do I still need to cover the hospital?" he asked once he felt better again and had caught one of Tifa’s phone calls.

Silence greeted him for a few beats, _"Is it really stressful for you?"_

Cloud felt like such a pathetic weakling. A surge of needing to ‘suck it up’ raced through him. "No. I think being around all the sick people is just making me sick. I’ll be okay in another day… I think.”

_“Take as long as you need. Felix is doing the hospital runs for now. If you think it would be better for your health not to—”_

“No, really. I’ll be fine. Just give me back my usual runs when I’m back.”

_“Okay.”_

Cloud hated his strong sense of duty.

###### 

Cloud returned to work and did his best to ignore the people around him. He went even later to the hospital, and just to be on the safe side, hid behind the flower arrangements he carried. and as much as possible. Especially when it came to the guard, who was stationed at the door. Cloud still felt worn out by the almost-daily ordeal but, with a sardonic huff, decided to soldier on.

As the weeks passed, he learned more about his comatose burden through the media. Nothing about the operation he had been involved in though, as that was deemed highly sensitive. He wasn’t one to watch the news, but found himself watching it now, just to get some information, especially when he heard conversations with phrases like 'such a shame’, 'cut down in his prime’, ‘it's all too bad’, as he passed by people in the hospital.

He learned about all the honors, achievements, and military pursuits of the spirited young man who now lay unmoving and in a critical condition in a sterile hospital bed with intubators, drips, catheters, and various other devices attached to him. Cloud could appreciate the sadness of it, the tragedy of what had befallen this man, especially since the reports said he had worked tirelessly at saving his comrades and single-handedly kept the squad’s Sergeant alive. 

It dawned on him one day while standing there in the empty darkened room—surrounded by a staggering amount of flowers—that it almost felt like he was visiting a crypt.

The monument of decaying flowers, deflating balloons, knocked over 'get well' cards all spoke of one thing: the love of the people that this man commandeered. All those he had saved, those who knew him, the general public; they adored him and what he represented: unwavering spirit, devotion, sacrifice, martyrdom. And yet, the sound of the rasping breath through the oxygen mask and the soft sound of machinery in the background punctuated the fragility and loneliness of life. The flowers all served as a morbid farewell, instead of a celebration of existence.

Yet Cloud didn’t feel it all to be macabre and somber. There also sat awe in this place, because Cloud bore witness to this barely-there military man, fighting and struggling for his life in this perfect stillness.

He got a bit philosophical when he was left to his own devices. The introspection wasn’t helped by his near-daily visitation to his man’s living mausoleum, where he tried to find a place for _one more_ flower arrangement. _One more_ tribute to lay at the foot of the living memorial. It left a sour taste in Cloud’s mouth though.

He understood that this man had been deemed a 'go-getter’ by his superiors. A real 'people person’ by his peers. Someone who had always joked and made sure all his comrades and anyone under, and even above himself, had been okay, which was what made him such a great Corporal— _had_ made him. All those things were now relegated to the past, a memory, a dream. And all for what…. Cloud got stuck on that thought and with pure derision, muttered, “Look where all that love and affection has gotten you. You’re stuck here, all alone, in a room full of dead things. And the public and military can’t even wait for you to be properly dead before turning your room into a grave.” Admittedly, Cloud was having a rather gloomy sort of a day.

He kept delivering flowers, kept watching the news late at night when he couldn’t sleep, despite being utterly physically and mentally exhausted. And he listened on the radio while driving his van. It was never anything terribly meaningful or insightful. All events from the battlefield, reports on casualties, and anything pertaining to the mission which had landed the man Cloud visited on an almost daily basis in the hospital, was barely forthcoming. The operation was still deemed too sensitive and top secret. So all the media could report on was Zack Fair.

Cloud felt somewhat entrapped by the man he had been made to visit. Zack Fair turned into a morbid oddity and curiosity; a form of Stockholm Syndrome perhaps. A trainwreck Cloud was glued to witnessing. He wondered if Zack would ever wake up. He wondered what the man was actually _really_ like. He doubted anyone would ever speak badly of the man or call him out on any asshole-ish behavior while he was in such an in-between life and death state of existence. He couldn’t buy that this guy was so amazing, wonderful, kind, and fun. Sure, he _sounded_ nice and like the exact type of person Cloud avoided in his life. It _sounded_ like a real shame for Corporal Fair to not recover from this. But maybe it also really wasn’t. Who knew? Cloud sure as hell didn’t, and wouldn’t know what the _actual_ reality of the matter was unless the dead rose from his coma.

Cloud tried to not lose any more sleep over it and pushed his wonderings away, focusing on the job at hand, which in the end, led him right back to the hospital, standing before his charge, staring down at him, thinking a myriad of conflicting thoughts. In the end, he always decided he didn’t care. He was getting paid. It was just the damn military personnel that got under his skin and made this the worst part of his day. He resented coming here. Hated that the comatose guy didn't just wake up, freeing Cloud of his obligations.

"You're one hell of a selfish son of a bitch," Cloud muttered another day, after having caught a half-heard conversation between the military personnel stationed outside of the door, bemoaning their station over having to watch and guard this room against media entry. "But keep giving them hell out there," Cloud finished with a smile, liking the discomfort being inflicted on people who resented having to look after someone who apparently did crazy brave things, like sticking his neck out for other people. Cloud supposed the extra resentment outside might have something to do with a new spate of news that he had caught last night.

"You know you got a bunch of medals? I don't know if anyone's been in to inform you, but… congratulations," Cloud said with bitter amusement as he set the flowers down on the tray table. "You got a Medal of Honor, a Distinguished Service Cross, _and_ a Silver Star Medal. You're one impressive guy, Corporal Fair." He bent down to look Zack in his more-akin-to-dead-than-alive face. His eyes trailed over the bandaged forehead, the patch over his left cheek, the mask covering his nose and mouth to help him breathe. 

"Hope those medals make being like this worth it, man." Cloud was greeted with even breathing, the whirring of machines, and the faint beep of the heart rate monitor.

He stood back up and left the room.

###### 

There came a point, somewhere around the 1-month mark of Cloud having started on his hospital delivery route, that things seemed to change a little. He arrived at the comatose man’s room to find the oxygen mask off and a considerable amount of equipment gone. The mountain of flowers also looked smaller and a more sensible amount. Cloud tested the room with a faint, “Hello?” but received no reply. He went over to the bed, warily inspecting the other man, who looked gaunt and pale, but a lot better for not having all that equipment and tubing attached to himself.

There was no motion, other than an even fall of the chest, and generally speaking, the man looked like he had always done while lying in this bed. Cloud left the flowers and headed out, catching Barbara before getting out completely. 

“How is Zack doing? He’s no longer on oxygen.”

“He is doing a lot better, yes. His independent breathing improved so he doesn't need the respirator. He’ll be moved to another room in the ICU next week.” She wasn’t willing to give much more information than that, so Cloud left to return the van and to go home to sleep, which came a little easier to him that night.

It was also roughly around the 1-month mark that Cloud began enjoying his trips to the hospital a little, especially on rough days because an almost comatose person couldn't give him any flack for not arriving precisely, to the second, on time. They weren’t going to back-chat or give him the stink-eye. Other than the military being everywhere, Cloud relaxed considerably when coming here every second day. The walk through the hall was uncomfortable but he grabbed an awful cup of coffee, hurried to his target’s location, not even being acknowledged by the security anymore as Cloud was as good as the bland decor around the hospital, and dumped the flowers wherever he found space. He then sat down in the uncomfortable guest chair and peacefully drank his burnt coffee. 

That routine and place almost became like a sanctuary. Sure, he had to traverse hell to get to it, but it was pleasant when he got there. He found it nice to not be in a mad rush. Nice not having to do small talk. And then two weeks after the respirator had come out, the military finally, for the most part, departed. Things were getting _even better_ for Cloud.

One day, he had been in a frantic rush due to massive traffic congestion absolutely everywhere he had to get to. Exhausted and starved, he grabbed whatever looked the least offensive at the hospital cafeteria and made his way to the ICU and Zack’s new room, which was slightly more comfortable. But only _slightly_ as it actually had an attached bathroom. Once he had deposited yet another exquisite bouquet, he slumped into the guest chair, which had been cleared of flowers a while ago, and relaxed with a deep sigh. 

“God, what a day from hell,” he bemoaned. After a few beats of breathing and quiet, he sat up straight and opened his styrofoam food container. 

“I’m sure you don’t mind me eating in here, right?” Cloud glanced at the only other occupant of the room. “I mean, I _do_ bring you all these flowers, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who regularly visits. So, if you’re not going to thank me, the least you could afford me is to let me use you like a tray table, huh.”

Cloud looked at the way the body in the bed lay almost lifeless. A steady beating and shallow rise and fall of the chest were the only signs of life.

Taking the prolonged silence as permission, Cloud dug into his meal. Was it strange talking to an unconscious person? It didn’t feel any stranger than talking to himself late at night. It was about as enlightening, but he weirdly enough _did_ enjoy the idea of another set of ears listening, without receiving dumb and pointless input.

“You’re not missing out on much with this food,” Cloud informed as he chewed. “Too dry and rubbery. But food’s food. And bad burnt coffee is still caffeine.” He took a sip, scrunched up his face, and placed the cup carefully onto the bed before himself.

He ate the rest of his meal in silence, mulling over his schedule. When he was done he tidied up and stood. “Well, it was fun, Zack. It’s okay if I call you Zack, right? Or you prefer Sergeant Fair? All your new fancy medals aside, you also got a promotion, y’know?” Cloud looked and got no response. “Zack it is then. See ya later.” And with that he left, feeling far more energized after a meal and some liquid energy.

###### 

Cloud kept coming because Aerith kept ordering flower arrangements to be delivered. He lingered ever longer in that room, finding it oddly meditative. Zack's silent company reminded Cloud of his family dogs, and as Cloud sat in the chair, thinking about it, he almost reached over to pat the comatose man's head. He caught himself though, leaned back and chuckled with amusement.

He wondered more and more about the man he was tasked with 'keeping company,' for he _did_ keep him company more often than not. Now that the military had gone, with the exception of a patrol here and there, and the occasional door check, the hospital had a far more relaxed atmosphere. Cloud found himself less drained and more awake, instead of wanting to crash by the time he got home. He figured if he was going to stay up anyway, he might as well do it whilst in someone's company.

Cloud sat and used this hospital room as his private dining hall, eating evening meals he had picked up from the cafeteria or from a fast food joint outside. He also sometimes checked his phone while he ate, reading articles, playing games. It was nice and quiet, just how he liked it. And while he did these things he also cast glances over at the sleeping man. The glances turned to gazes, where he studied the man's face and the way his chest rose and fell, shallow and at rest. 

Sometimes he got stuck in his head, replaying all that he knew of the other man and all he had seen on TV. It was a peaceful, quiet evening in early spring. He had a tray of hospital food in his lap, his phone in one hand, and a spork in the other when the thoughts that bothered him the most fell out of his mouth in a hushed tone, “What kind of food do you like, Zack? Bet the answer isn't hospital food,” he muttered whilst putting another forkful of green mush into his mouth. 

Predictably, there was no response.

“I know what school you went to. I know how hard you worked to get to where you were. I _vaguely_ know about the mission you were on when this happened to you—that’s all the news talks about. Well, they also talk about how whatever you were involved with is still highly top secret so the public isn’t allowed to know the specific details of it. It's been nearly two months now since you landed here, and who knows how much time you spent in the field hospital before you were brought here. Smells like a cover-up, if you ask me. I hope you’re not gonna be like some scapegoat for them.” That thought riled Cloud up, but he relaxed with a huf and changed the subject, “But anyway, all that stuff in the media doesn’t actually answer the real questions I have, like… what’s your favorite color? Why did you think that mullet was a good look for you in high school? Yeah, the news channels _love_ pullingoutthat photo of you in your yearbook.”

More silence greeted him and Cloud also fell silent again.

He kept his visitations up, he kept asking Zack random things but got bored of not having anything answered and soon ran out of things he wondered about without repeating himself. So instead, he used Zack as a way to vent his frustrations with work, and some of the people he had to engage with. 

“Did you know that Mr. Storgeno wanted all blue cocktail umbrellas? Well, I didn't either, until he opened up the box right in front of me and started complaining about it. Like I packed that box myself and purposefully put green and red umbrellas into the packet, just to spite him. Kinda wish I had,” he finished in a mutter.

He had many more stories to tell about how he—the messenger—got shot, in the proverbial sense. Venting like this made Cloud feel lighter every time he left the hospital at the end of his day.

That was Cloud’s life; struggle to wake in the mornings, struggle to stay awake in the day during work, dealing with pleasant and unpleasant people alike, and then dropping by the hospital on the days it was on his roster, to chill out before going home, where he’d have a battle to shut off in order to get a good night’s sleep.

The days and weeks passed. The military continued their stance of keeping quiet to protect national interests, and so, public interest diminished. The media in front of the hospital dwindled, there were no more sensational headlines, and news of Zack Fair faded into the background and complete obscurity as the months’ Zack spent in hospital turned to three.

Cloud still caught sight of the occasional military uniform, much to his chagrin. He managed to avoid them mostly, and came and went undetected as Zack’s security didn’t seem very dedicated to their job, especially as the public no longer had any interest in the man stuck in the ICU ward.

It was one unremarkable evening; Cloud had finished all his deliveries, except one. Exhaustion clung to him, weighing him down. He went to the coffee station on his way to Zack’s room, pulling his hat over his face as he passed the goons, who stood near the coffee station, cups in hands.

“Did ya hear that they’re gonna continue paying him an on-active-duty wage? The guy’s barely alive from what I’ve seen,” grumbled a burly military man into his cup of coffee.

“And here we are, gettin’ paid less than the guy we are here to guard. Just makes ya wanna spit,” the smaller of the two men responded. 

“I’ll tell ya what, Burrcott, if I were in charge of the budget I’d find better things to spend it on. Why’s he even need all this special attention? Stick him in the public sector. My sister-in-law’s a nurse over at the fifth district. Says they have all the same equipment.”

“The big wigs gotta put on a show. Make it look like they actually give a shit about their employees. Makes for a hella PR stunt.”

“Ya don’t think the whole thing was a setup to begin with, do ya?”

"No clue. They tell us jack shit."

Cloud had enough. He slapped on a lid for his coffee rather violently and spilled nearly half his drink. Hissing, he grabbed for napkins to mop up the mess and dry himself off a little. He felt eyes on himself and lowered his head, as well as turning away slightly. He unfortunately still heard it though—

"Ya heard the rumors that General Strife’s son doing deliveries around here, haven’t ya?"

Cloud's nostrils flared.

"Deliveries…” a derisive laugh followed. "Is that the only thing that kid's good for? If that was my son I’d be disappointed. I heard everyone in that family has some foot in the army. To be doing deliveries—" disappointed tutting followed.

"I know what ya mean. But I guess that’s what you get when you suck at everything. I heard he got booted out ‘cause he was trying to suck up to a General, ‘n’ now he’s here trying to suck up to a nearly-dead guy." 

They laughed.

Cloud grit his teeth and threw the soiled napkins in the bin. He strode off, coffee and bouquet in each hand, heading down the hall and away from the muttonheads.

He barged into Zack’s room, dumped the bouquet at the foot of the bed and started pacing. “What do they even know. None of it’s true. I didn’t…” He huffed and his cheeks burned. He looked at the man in bed, and refocused his rage. “How _dare_ those jerks talk about you like that. After all you did. This is what I hate. The backstabbing, two-faced _bullshit._ Being treated like a number and a burden! _"_

He was in full swing—pacing around the room and fuming. “I can see it in their smug, douchey faces, you know. The derision. The pity. I don't need anyone's pity. I never asked for anyone's pity. And they throw that same shit at you. At least you can't see or hear it. You're a national hero, but they try to brush you off like you don't exist. Like you're broken. That's what they all do, you know. If you don't cut it they cut you off, and let you go." Cloud stomped, his hands flew around wildly gesticulating as he kept ranting, "They love nothing more than to hammer home what an epic disappointment you are to the whole fucking family,” he slammed his fist into the wall with a low growl. The pain radiated up his arm. It helped to sober him and cool him off a little. He breathed furiously and stared at the wall, which had become rather blurry through the tears welling up in his eyes. 

He listened to the buzzing of machinery in the room. His ragged breathing and the steady beeping of Zack’s heart rate monitor cut through the slight ringing in his ears. Yet the beeping sounded a fraction faster than it had been before.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered and turned back to face the room. He stared at Zack's unchanging body for a while before he shuffled back toward the comatose man. Picking up the bouquet as he went, he sank down into the now-familiar chair and placed the flowers on the table where he should have put them to begin with. “I hate it, y’know. I hate what you do and the organization you work for. And if you were to wake up right now—well, I'd hate to think that I’d probably hate you too.” His heart felt heavy. Most of all he hated that he spoke the truth. As upset as he felt right now, he wasn’t saying this to be vindictive; nothing but honesty left his mouth.

He gave a hard stare at the man on the bed before him. His face was turned away, and Cloud thought it for the best as he spoke in a slow, semi-whisper, “A part of me hopes you won’t pull through.” He cast his eyes to the floor and felt awful admitting it. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be doing this. And most of all, I don’t wanna know you because… because if I got to actually _know_ you through something other than the media, I'd probably end up really liking you. It's easy to hate you when they espouse you to be the poster child of the military. I don't want to like you. I don't want to hate you. Fuck… I don't know." 

Cloud clutched his head, flinging off his hat and rubbing at his hair furiously. "I don't mean that. I'd rather think the best of you, really. But…" he sighed, "you also don't seem like someone I would ever get along with. Everyone seems to love you—I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a room so full of flowers and get-well wishes on cards. You know, the cleaners have to clear out your room once a week to stop this place from becoming a jungle? _That's_ how much people like you. I mean, I don't know if they are from personal friends and family or the public, but… it doesn't even matter. It’s been three months and you _still_ get so much love showered your way. You're like an amazing poster child. The media made it sound like you were a prodigy; super good at your job; such a bright future ahead of you. That's what I hear the shitheads outside say about you too—the ones who envy you. That's what it is, you know, jealousy and envy. And I know because…” he huffed. “But here you are, nearly dead. Bet no one envies that. Bet they wouldn't have the guts to be the kind of guy you were—are. I don't even know whether you're dead or alive. All I know is that you're everything I hate in a person. You're everything I wish I could have been. Shit. I don't know. I'm just ranting, ignore me." Cloud sat up straight and replaced his hat.

With a heavy sigh, he continued, “It’s a pretty shit way to feel about someone, especially since I don't even know you. Look, I guess all I know is that from everything I've seen and heard, you sound… really irritating. I guess it’s not the fairest assessment to be making about a person.” Cloud, leaning back down to rest his forearms on his thighs, knit his fingers together and stared at his hands. “I probably sound like a real asshole. I guess I am. And to be honest, if you woke up and I found out you were somewhat of an asshole, that would make me like you more. It would give you a redeemable quality.” Cloud huffed out some sad amusement and looked up at the man he had just admonished. “Or maybe I want you to be an ass so I can feel better about myself.”

He righted himself from where he had slumped. “But all that being said… I actually kind of _do_ hope you pull through. I’m not evil. Or maybe I am.” Cloud cast a glance toward the currently frosted-over privacy windows that looked into the ICU ward. “I want you to prove everyone out there wrong. It’s disgusting the derisive pity and platitudes they all spout. I'm sure you deserve better than that. I'm sure you don't need their shit.” Cloud sighed and picked up the coffee cup he had set down amongst the bouquets. He took a sip and grimaced. “And I'm also pretty sure I deserve better coffee than this.” He aimed and threw the cup toward the bin near the door. He hit his mark and collected himself so he could walk out of the room with an air of aloofness.

“Anyway, good chat, I guess. See you later.”

###### 

Deciding he didn't want to take on his colleagues' workload, as he felt rather run down, he arrived very early in the afternoon at the hospital. Cloud wandered down the hospital hall, carrying another bouquet to its usual destination and felt rather anxious. The thought of how long it had actually been since his delivery recipient had landed in the ICU began bothering him. Yes, Zack had changed rooms, but the fact that he was still in the same vegetative state as the first day Cloud had seen him grew disconcerting. Yes, the man didn’t need a machine anymore to help him breathe; yes, several more of the intensive care equipment had slowly been moved out of the room, but Zack was still _there._ Was he brain-dead? Was he improving? 

Cloud tried to not think about the other man too much, but lately it ate into his sleep and he could feel the onset of another unwell period settling in. He hated how he could practically feel himself slipping into the prodromal phase of his condition. He needed to get some good sleep tonight if he hoped to not crash and burn in the morning. So he stopped by the nurse's station to see if he could get some information.

“Evening, Simon,” he said to the man dressed in dark scrubs and a hazel complexion.

“Hi, Cloud. That's another very lovely bouquet you got there.”

“Aerith is a master when it comes to this stuff. I don't think any of the ones I've brought in have been the same.”

“I think you're right. But what can I do for you? You don't make a habit of stopping by for a chat.”

“Ah, just wanted to know how Zack was doing. He's still in the ICU after all this time. That doesn't seem right. Will he be okay?”

Simon looked past Cloud to where Zack's room stood. “Considering how on a knife's edge he was, he's doing remarkably well. He's been such a delight, it's almost a shame that we'll be moving him next week.”

Cloud stared, baffled by everything the other man has just said. “He's being moved?”

“Yeah. Getting his own private area, up on the fifth floor of the residential rehabilitation wing. It’s pretty nice up there. I think it’s probably the reason he was brought here to begin with. Rooms have been full, but there’s finally been a vacancy.”

“Wouldn't he be better off staying down here?”

“No. He's out of imminent danger. Plus, he’s been asking to be moved for the last two weeks.”

 _“A-asking?_ But he's out cold.” A sinking feeling grew.

Simon looked confused. “He's been pretty vocal. For someone in his shape, he's been remarkably upbeat these past few weeks. You don’t know that he’s awake?”

If it were possible to feel sea-sick on land, Cloud experienced it at that moment. “No.”

The nurse hummed. “Maybe you keep coming in when he's sleeping?”

Cloud really hoped that was what was going on, but his brain went to the worst-case scenario; mocking betrayal. “Yeah. Must be it.”

Cloud took his leave and headed to the room. The windows were frosted over for privacy. As he approached a man with raven hair, and a woman with ebony curls, and an olive complexion, exit the room. They didn't appear to be the regular military personnel; wearing casual clothes befitting the warmer spring weather outside. 

As the parties passed each other the woman stopped Cloud in his tracks. “Excuse me, are those for my son?”

Cloud looked toward Zack's room and back at the couple, both of which were a good five inches taller than himself. “A delivery for Zack Fair.”

The man and woman gave him big, good-natured smiles.

“So you must be Cloud,” she said.

Strangers knowing his name always unnerved him. “Ahhh, yeah—that's me,” he answered warily. Cloud had his hand taken and shaken in turn by both of them.

“We can't thank you enough for keeping our son company. We know that it means a lot to him.”

Indignation started to build, but he kept his cool. “There's nothing to thank me for.”

“Oh, come now. Don't be so modest,” the rather-fit-for-a-middle-aged man said, smiling broadly. He clapped Cloud on the shoulder.

“You have been such a great help to our Zack. Thank you,” the woman looked to want to pull Cloud into a hug, but the flowers he held seemed to dissuade her, to Cloud’s relief.

“If we can ever repay you for the kindness, please let us know,” the man said.

“Oh, n-no, that’s not… I’m just doing my job,” Cloud stammers.

He received more warm smiles and ‘thank yous’ before the woman urged, “Dear, we should be leaving, and let Cloud get on with his work.”

“Right, right. Thank you again for looking after our son.”

With that the couple hurried off, leaving Cloud staring at the now-offensive room before himself. He thought about not going in. He'd obviously been played. But he had a job to do, so he inhaled sharply and ventured forward.

On opening the door he was greeted by a wholly unfamiliar voice, “Hey, mom, pop did y—”

Cloud stood in the doorway, glaring daggers.

The bright smile vanished and deep blue eyes stared back. 

They stared…

..................… and stared… 

..........................................… and breathed… 

......................................................................… and stared.

“H-hi,” the man broke the silence.

Red hot and every atom buzzing, Cloud huffed, slammed the door shut—making himself flinch—and labored toward the bed. The frown grew deeper with each step. He couldn’t look at the man in the bed, who wore a smile that stabbed Cloud deeper the wider it got.

He detested being this close to the man as he stopped by the bed and dropped the flowers on the tray table, making the flimsy plastic rattle. “Another bouquet from Aerith,” came his strangled attempt at not letting his utter abhorrent disgust shine through. 

“Thanks,” the man said with a deep husky scratch to his voice.

Cloud snapped his eyes up to meet the man’s gaze, who flinched like Cloud had physically touched him.

“You’re awake.,” he grit through his teeth.

“Um…”

“For how long?”

“Ah…”

Cloud huffed. “I’m not coming back here.” Humiliation burned. Cloud turned to flee the situation and his feelings. He’d rather quit his job than make one more delivery to this place. He was going to tell Tifa as much.

“No, Cloud. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole, I know. But that’s why you should stay,” came the hasty and guilty admission in a low, rusty timbre.

Cloud stopped before he reached the door. Without turning back he agreed with the man, “You _are_ an asshole.”

“But it’s my redeemable feature, right?” Zack laid out gently.

It took all of Cloud’s energy to keep his body from trembling with outrage and mortification. How long had this bastard been _faking_ it? “Does Aerith know that you’re awake?” he grumbled, wanting to know how deep this farcical ruse went.

A few beats of silence… and then, “She visited last week,” came the muttered response.

The outrage erupted. An actual growl rumbled in the back of Cloud’s throat. Through grit teeth, he snapped, _“And?”_

“Aaaand—we talked and had a really nice time,” came the small, chastened voice.

Cloud blew air from his nose. His clenched fist trembled and his heart hammered. The flash of heat inside his body sprang to his cheeks. He thought he could die from embarrassment. She had _known._ He had _seen_ her this late morning and she had said _nothing_ to him. He didn’t know who he was madder at. “Good luck with your life,” he spat over his shoulder, without looking at the bane of his existence, and marched to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” came the plea. “I didn’t know when to tell you. Please don’t leave. Let me ex—”

Cloud slammed the door shut behind himself and hurried out, ignoring any looks or questions of concern he received. His whole body trembled with burning outrage by the time he got to the car. He couldn’t go back to work to drop the van off. He couldn’t face Tifa without snapping at her and unleashing all his anger at her, because she _must have_ known as well. 

Cloud went home and passed out in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave me comments and feedback on AO3. As much as I loved writing this story, I am also extremely burnt out from it, so some kind of appreciation of my hard work would be... appreciated, heh.
> 
>  **/edit:** completely forgot to add that this fic begins with a song, and it will end with a song, and it is very important to me that I share this -  
> [Long Way Down by Goo Goo Dolls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zK6PiJCw_Jg)


	2. Pinocchio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A disgruntled and deeply offended Cloud goes to hear what Zack's excuse might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm utterly blown away by the response to the first chapter. Thank you one and all. I've been hanging out for the past 7 days, itching to upload the next chapter so I can answer some of the questions that have been directed towards the story.
> 
> So glad it's finally posting day, OMG!
> 
> I also forgot to mention two things - 1) Chapter 1 has a song attached to it, and I linked it in ch 1's end notes.  
> 2) a bajillion THANK YOU's to [Secluded Delusions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secluded_delusions/pseuds/secluded_delusions/works) for having been an _amazing_ developmental editor and for having helped to get me unstuck in _so many_ spots. If not for her, this story might have stayed on hiatus for another 2 years or something.
> 
> No warnings apply to this chapter.

Cloud positively fumed all day and when night finally fell he got hardly any sleep because he fixated on Zack being awake and _having been_ awake long enough to have heard God only knew _what!_ Cloud couldn’t recall all the things he had talked about whilst thinking the guy as good as a vegetable. How long had Zack been listening for? What the hell was wrong with the guy? Had it all been a game? Did Cloud serve as some sick amusement for Aerith and Zack? Had Tifa been in on it as well?

It kept him up too long, and he slept in too much, but he didn’t care. His night's rumination brought him to the conclusion that Tifa most likely wasn’t involved in the subterfuge though. So he drove to work, all the while rehearsing the perfect speech to give to her as to why he would no longer be doing that particular delivery.

When he got to work, he changed his mind. Tifa was definitely in on it because the first thing out of her mouth, when he saw her mid-afternoon was, “You’re not getting out of it.”

“I’m _not_ doing it. Let Gavin do it,” he snapped, thumping his knuckles against the desk.

Tifa gave him one of her world-famous ‘don’t mess with me’ looks. “I don’t know what you got so upset about. It’s your duty to get that delivery done and sort out your shit while you’re doing it.”

“Forget it. I quit.” Cloud about-faced and made for the garage to get onto his bike and go home.

“You’re going to be a cowardly chocobo and run? Is that it?” Tifa called after him.

Cloud stopped dead in his tracks. He’d never run from a fight, even when he had known that he couldn’t win. But this wasn’t a battle. It was a matter of dignity. “They _humiliated_ me, Tifa. Your staff shouldn’t have to put up with harassment, and I’d expect you to stand up for me,” he shot back.

“Humiliated? _Harassed?_ What happened?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“What happened? I’ve been running errands to some guy who I thought was _unconscious_ for the last three months, but he’s _not!_ I go in there to drop the flowers off and not _once_ does the guy give me a _hello?_ It’s demeaning!” He almost stomped his foot.

A slight frown graced Tifa's brow and wrinkled her nose. “You're upset because he doesn't pay attention to you?"

"No," he shot back with desperation, anxious about confessing to her. The confused expression on Tifa's face made him groan. Maybe she didn’t know, after all. He probably couldn't get out of explaining it to her. "Aerith asked me to talk to him, so I did. I've been talking to him for three months like a complete idiot and I've never gotten a word back because he just pretends like he's still unconscious. I'm not going there again."

Her lashes fluttered and she let out a small hum. "I’m sorry to hear that, Cloud. I can’t imagine what he was thinking not saying anything to you, but it’s no reason to shirk your duties.”

“You’re not _listening_ to me!” Cloud couldn’t keep the outrage in check. His clenched fist trembled. “This is the most _humiliating_ job I’ve _ever_ had to do in my _life.”_

Tifa gave him a hard stare, but not cold nor uncaring. “You are my employee and I take my duty to look out for your best interest to heart when it comes to the business end of things. I’ll have a word with Mr. Fair before you get your delivery done, but I _insist_ you do this delivery. March yourself back to Aerith’s place, get the item in question, and _deliver_ it!” Cloud opened his mouth to protest, but Tifa cut him off, “And if _after_ this delivery you want to change, I will let you and respect your wishes. But don’t you _dare_ quit on me. You are going to do this. And do it _now._ I know you can. Go!” She pointed toward the back, where Cloud's van was garaged.

Cloud drew his head in a little and, feeling significantly chastened, went to the back, but he _fumed_ on the inside. He really hated Tifa sometimes. He hated the familiarity they shared because it bred some strange devotion to her. She gave him a chance when no one else did. She worked around his need for flexible shift hours. She _knew_ him, his family, his issues. He felt in league with the devil as he begrudgingly hopped into his van. He told himself that all he had to do was just one more delivery to garner restitution. He could do it.

As he drove to the greenhouse he hoped he could avoid any kind of communication with the other half of the deceptive duo. Just grab the flowers and get out of there. He didn’t have his heart set on reconciling anything. It was all a real shame. Aerith had seemed nice, after all, but he also couldn't truly be surprised. People always disappointed and abused his own good nature.

Cloud steeled himself with the aim to remain angry as he neared the greenhouse. When he arrived he saw Aerith standing out the front, a brilliant boxed bouquet standing next to her, with the largest flowers reaching up to her knees. Tifa had probably called to let her know of his arrival. He parked his vehicle and with a heavy sigh, got out and crossed the dusty parking lot.

“Cloud!” The smile she usually wore was nowhere to be seen. “I’m so sorry. He’s just dumb and didn’t think.”

He ignored her and strode over to pick up the fruity, and very sweet-smelling delivery item, with a tickle in his nose.

“Thank you for giving him a chance to apologize and explain himself to you,” Aerith hastily got out as Cloud turned to leave.

He stopped and threw her a look over his shoulder. “What about you? What’s _your_ excuse?”

Aerith leaned back and blinked rapidly, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You knew he was awake, but you didn’t tell me either. You had me report back to you on his status like an idiot. Why?” He didn’t even attempt to smooth over the gruff edge to his voice.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew and I didn't want to outright say anything because I've had reporters around here asking questions. The military came around as well telling me what not to say. That Scarlet woman is scary," Aerith ended in a mutter.

That took the heated wind out of Cloud's sails. "Well, I _didn't_ know."

"I'm sorry," she peeped. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

Cloud said nothing to that. He merely walked away.

"We both like you," she called after him softly. "I hope you’ll give us a chance to be liked back.”

The frown on Cloud's face deepened, but not with anger; it was upset. He ignored the woman and the words and got back in his van with the delivery in tow.

* * *

Exhaustion sat in Cloud's head, drooping his eyes and lowering his chin to chest. His limbs felt heavy and he would have liked nothing more than to stay in his van and have a nap. He would be able to; Tifa had cleared his schedule with only this one task to complete. So technically, he could sleep the afternoon away and then pop into the hospital quickly as night fell. He couldn’t see this taking too long. Nothing the man could possibly say would sway him. 

He really contemplated the nap, but sitting outside the hospital, in the loading bay, made him feel woozy with uncertainty. The outcome of whatever lay beyond weighed on him. He looked forward to never coming back here again. He looked forward to going home and crashing in bed. The promised reward of attaining these things finally saw him clamber out of the van and propelled him into the building, with the bouquet in hand. 

Trepidation grew the closer he got to the offensive room and man. He hated the nervousness inside himself. He wasn’t so much embarrassed about the things he had spoken about, but rather it was the prolonged deceit he’d endured which burned him the most.

He stopped briefly before the door, breathed deep, knocked, and let himself in.

“Cloud! You’re back!” came the delighted greeting. The man sat up slowly with stiff and flinching movements accompanied by soft grunts of strain, followed up by an immediate, “I am so, _so,_ sorry for what happened yesterday. God, I completely blew it, didn’t I?”

Cloud stood by the door, holding the cool metal handle in one hand, and the flowers in the crook of his other arm. He found it strange to see the sack of flesh and bone he had stared at for three months now moving and talking. It was as if Pinocchio had come alive before his very own eyes.

Pinocchio stared back at him, his expression somewhere between joy and worry. 

Cloud gave the man the cold shoulder as he went into the room, looking for a place to set down the bouquet. He took his time as he went. Anything to avoid acknowledging the man in bed who kept talking, “I’m really sorry. I’m so glad you came back.”

While he shuffled, he wondered what to say, what to accept as an apology, _if_ to even accept the apologies the man was already dishing out, and inevitably when he _didn’t_ accept the apology whether to be angry, flippant, or dismissive about it. 

He found a spot, and as the delivery item left his hands he righted himself. He had drawn complete blanks to all his swirling questions and thoughts. With a mask of stone-cold indifference, he finally turned to face the other man, who stared up at him in pensive silence. 

Tension sat in the space between the two; like predator and prey surveying each other. But Cloud wasn’t sure which of them was playing which part. He wasn't even sure what to think, so he decided to be the pursuer and asked, “Why’d you put on this act?”

Zack winced as he moved and sat up a little straighter. The pained expression melted into a small smile. “Not an act. I sleep most of the day, and night. I've been dozing most times you've come in.”

 _“Most.”_ Cloud latched onto that word with full umbrage.

“Well, for a long time I was really out of it. And by the time I was less high on all the pain meds it felt too weird to say anything. I thought it might embarrass you.” He smiled in a pained way and looked down at his blanketed body.

“And you thought the longer you listened to me while I thought you couldn't hear, it would somehow be _less_ embarrassing?” he pressed, indignation causing nausea to flutter, and his heart to race.

Slack-jawed, the man stared at Cloud for a few moments before looking away again. “I, uh. Um… well… ah…. Sorry,” he muttered, dejected.

From everything he’d heard about the man sitting in bed he had certainly not expected this half-brained and dense attitude. He didn’t know what to think anymore and didn’t like how his anger melted ever so slightly. Cloud frowned, trying to hold on to his offense. “Aerith is right about you.”

“Oh?” Zack's eyes pinged back to look at Cloud and a hopeful smile flashed, plumping up gaunt cheeks.

“You really _are_ dumb.” Cloud folded his arms over his chest.

Zack's eyes and mouth widened for a moment, and then he erupted in a belly-aching laugh which went for a few solid seconds before Zack winced in pain and stopped. Wiping at his eyes, he said, “Gah, you had me worried there for a sec—” he laughed again. “Yeah, guilty as charged. I got myself into a right mess with you. I kinda do things without thinking of the consequences—kinda why I’m here,” he shrugged and gave a bigger smile.

That took the remaining air of indignation out of Cloud. The guy had nearly died. Why was Cloud being such an offended dick? “How’re you feeling?” he muttered and grabbed at his own arm, squeezing his bicep. He felt incredibly awkward and stiff standing there before someone he never thought would ever wake up.

“Everything hurts, and I’ve never felt so weak in my life. But otherwise… doing okay.” Zack strained as he lifted his arm, but managed to give Cloud a thumbs up and toothy grin, which fell moments later.

They faced each other quietly. Cloud finally had his wish of finding out who Zack Fair really was. Apparently a moron and-or a dork. 

“You know,” Zack said quietly, “Aerith really was right about you too.”

Cloud gave a pointed and suspicious glare.

“Um… here, this should explain it,” with slow, stiff movements, Zack pulled himself to the edge of the bed and bent down with a deep groan.

“What’re you doing?” Alarmed, Cloud moved and stopped at the bedside, bending down as well, in order to be of help if the man fell or needed anything.

Dark blue eyes closed. A smiling wince contorted Zack’s face. “Heh, I’m just trying to get the box under there.”

“Let me get that for you.” Cloud crouched lower and spotted a small cardboard box under the hospital bed. He fetched it. Zack groaned as he rested back on his pillows and took the box from Cloud.

“What’re those?” Cloud asked, as Zack picked through a stack of cards.

“I’ve been keeping all the well-wishing cards—ah, this one. Here, read it.”

That response disarmed Cloud. Hands fell to his sides and he took the card Zack handed him: he remembered that one. It bore a cute water-colored panda on it and had been attached to the first bouquet he had delivered. Cloud remembered because he had stopped paying attention to the cards attached to the bouquets after the first month.

He opened the card and saw a delightful cursive handwritten note, reading—

_Zack,_  
  
_You are so dumb, and I’m worried sick about you, but I know you will make it through this. Along with the flowers, I have sent you company. Cloud might seem a bit grumpy but I can tell he's a real sweetie on the inside. I hope having regular company will speed along your recovery._  
  
_I will come visit you as soon as I can. Mom and I are thinking of you, always._  
  


_All the best and lots of love,_  
  
_Aerith._

Cloud closed the card and handed it back to Zack, who smilingly said, “See, she’s a great judge of character. You’re definitely sweet on the inside.”

It would have been a charming response if Cloud wasn’t pissed off. He turned his face up into a grimace. “I’m just here because I have a job to do.”

“Maybe. But you spent more time with me than just a quick drop-off.”

He did _not_ need to be reminded of that. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m pissed off with you about. You shouldn’t even _know_ that I spent time here! You… you…" gritting his teeth he spat out, _"betrayed_ my trust and confidence.” Personally, Cloud didn’t even know why he was talking like this with Zack. He didn’t _know_ the guy, and yet… _stupidly enough…_ the last couple of months talking to him made Cloud feel like they _had_ shared… _something._ It made the betrayal burn all the worse. “I said shit to you that I’ve never told _anyone_. How am I supposed to come back from this?”

Zack stared up at Cloud. The way his mouth parted and a clueless expression settled on his face only exacerbated the sickly hollows of his cheeks and the sagging dark circles around his eyes. “I—I’m sorry. For what it’s worth… I honestly don’t remember much. I’m living in this brain fog most days. All I know is that there was always someone here, talking to me. I think it was you. Having someone here… not feeling alone… made me feel… _better,”_ Zack said, sounding small and forlorn. A deep breath brought his voice back to volume, “It was nice having someone here to give me something else to focus on besides—” Zack winced for a long moment before he shook his head and managed to open his now-glassy eyes. 

“You remembered that I called you an asshole.” Cloud’s bite lacked its intended severity and came out as slight admonishment. He felt deflated and sympathetic toward the other man; his injuries had been life-threatening. That hadn’t been an act.

“There are snippets of words and things in my head. I remember you saying you wished I was an asshole. I don’t know why, but I can tell you, I definitely can be one. I’ve _been_ one to you, and I’m truly sorry about that.”

Cloud huffed and folded his arms, looking away. “Since when have you actually been awake?” 

“I don’t know. Time drags in here. I don’t know when one day ends and another begins. I thought I could tell by your arrival and bringing me another bouquet, but Aerith said you didn’t come around every day? I don’t know.”

Now Cloud felt like a colossal prick. A sigh seeped out and reluctantly, he murmured, “Sorry for blowing up at you.”

Zack shook his head slightly. “I’m the one who needs to be sorry, and I _am._ You’ve got every right to be upset with me. I know I’ve definitely been feeling more myself in the last… _two?—weeks?_ I guess? Maybe? I listened to you telling me things. I'd wake up and you were there talking to me, and… I couldn't figure out what to say, so I just listened. And… in a way it's been nice not having to say anything. It’s been nice listening to your stories, though I honestly can’t remember much about them. Was there something about brown umbrellas and a traffic jam?”

Cloud huffed a little. “They were blue, and there was a very bad jam the other week, which I might have complained about.”

Zack shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t keep things straight right now. I’ve got a psychologist coming in here every once in a while, asking me questions and getting me to recollect things to see if my memory’s been affected. I mean, I don’t need a psych degree to know that it has.” A self-deprecating smile quirked his lips.

 _Shit._ Cloud didn’t like the swell of guilt in his chest. He sighed it out. “Okay, I’m tired of hearing you apologizing. I believe you. You didn’t mean any harm.”

A smile with some strength behind it returned to Zack. He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for believing me. For what it’s worth, I pretended to be asleep with a lot of other people too. The ones I didn't want to deal with. I was kind of waiting for a good time to come out to you about my little secret. But it never felt like the right time. I swear to you, I drift in and out of this brain fog and whenever I came to, you were already here, talking to me. I’m really embarrassed about the whole thing and I get that you are too. I just _didn’t_ know what to say.” Zack sighed and frowned.

“I wanted to spare us feeling awkward. I thought I might have been able to get away with it once I moved rooms. You know, like, I get moved, and I was going to make a real effort to stay awake, and then you come in and we could have a proper introduction, but… well, you found me out before that could happen.”

Cloud shrugged his shoulders. Zack sounded sincere. He seemed really upset with himself over having caused Cloud pain. Cloud pressed his lips together. He had wanted to be mad and outraged. He supposed he was okay with being placated. 

“I’m really sorry. Let me have a do-over. Hi, my name’s Zack Fair, and I’m a complete idiot.” He held out his hand to Cloud.

Cloud looked at Zack and the peace offering. He glanced away, and begrudgingly reached out and took Zack’s hand. He felt a tremble and received a weak squeeze. “Cloud,” he murmured with heat rising to his cheeks. “I deliver things.” It felt ridiculous to be doing introductions now, but… also… nice.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Cloud.” Zack gave a feeble squeeze.

They shook on it, after which Zack’s hand slipped from Cloud’s grip and landed on his lap.

“Do you forgive me?”

Cloud couldn't find any other word but ‘pathetic’ to describe the look Zack gave him at that moment. It was like a puppy who knew he had done the wrong thing. It was made even sadder by the bandage around his head and the gauze on his cheek. Despite the sad and hopeful expression, Cloud looked away again, saying, “No.”

Zack whimpered as if he’d been kicked. “Why not?”

“You don’t get to decide when I forgive you.”

Zack winced and clenched his fists. He looked away for so long that Cloud actually grew concerned, but before he could voice his worry, Zack looked back up at him, shimmering eyes blinking rapidly. “How can I make it up to you? Do you want to hear some of the stupid shit I’ve gotten up to?”

He didn't even wait for a response before he launched into it: “I did a favor for an old classmate of mine, which ended up in me almost buck naked, and painted head to toe in blue glitter body paint. It was for an outdoor photoshoot. I was painted in the studio and then we were supposed to meet out by a secluded area in a park in the middle of the city. I forgot to fill up my car before heading out, and I also didn't bring a towel, so when my car stalled five miles from my destination I got out and walked there. Man… the looks I got.” Zack shook his head.

Cloud stared.

“The police also stopped me, thinking I was crazy. They did give me a ride to where I needed to go. Probably to make sure I was telling the truth. I had the nickname of Smurf for the longest time after that—And another time I was at a pool party. I decided to jump off the second story balcony into the pool. I made it alright, but lost my swim shorts in the process, so the night kinda ended in me having to streak to safety—” 

Barely taking a breath, Zack continued, “Then there was also the time I ate an entire box of mints to disprove their laxative claims to a friend, while we were on tour. Let's just say the warning labels are there for a reason and the whole thing didn't end well. I got a large chunk of my pay docked to get the inside of the tank cleaned out properly, which reminds me of the time—”

“Enough, enough!” Cloud waved his hand about. “Stop telling me all about this stuff. I get it. You like to get naked and you have no shame.” 

“What? No, that's not… entirely true. That's not the point. I'm just trying to make you feel better.”

“How is any of this supposed to make me feel better?”

Zack’s mouth flapped for a moment. “Ah… I thought maybe if you knew more about me… I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life, and I thought maybe if you know some of it you might not feel so bad—not that I’m calling the stuff you told me about stupid shit. No. That’s not what I’m tryin’ to say.” Zack’s expression grew more bewildered as he talked. His eyes grew wide, he tripped over his words, “I’m—look… I…”

“Zack,” Cloud interjected.

Wide blue eyes snapped up at him. “Yeah?”

“Relax.”

Zack exhaled loudly and his shoulders dropped. “Sorry. I’m really sorry. I haven’t properly talked to people in… a long while. I really wanna make it up to you, but I'm not great with words. Actions are where I shine. I think the point I’m trying to make is that from what minimal stuff I might remember you talking about, nothing you said made me think badly of you. I really valued having someone here to fill the empty space. I hope you can accept my apology and I hope we're even.”

Cloud finally got it, and voiced his understanding with a drawn-out, “Oh.” But he continued with, “No, we're not—and don't tell me any more of your weird anecdotes. They won't help either,” Cloud cut Zack off as the other man took a breath to continue on with his apparently bottomless supply of stories.

Zack pouted and frowned. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“No. But it's fine. I'm not mad about that anymore,” Cloud excused. Inwardly, an embarrassed aversion still sat in his gut, but he hoped to make Zack and himself forget by deflecting. “I don't like what happened and I never want it to happen again, got it?”

“Yeah, you got it, boss.” Zack looked up with big round eyes.

Cloud sighed. “Okay then.”

“Okay,” Zack echoed, a small smile creeping over his face. “I’m sorry for rambling. Once I get going I don’t seem to stop. Doesn’t help when I’m—” he yawned and his eyelids drooped, “tired.” 

Relief swirled through Cloud at seeing a perfect opportunity to get out of there. “Go back to sleep. You look like you actually need it.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Zack sank down into the bed. “Thanks for the talk. I'm glad you came back,” he muttered, his tone slowing rapidly.

Cloud wasn’t so sure if he was, even though he felt better than he had when he first stepped foot inside the room. “Bye.” Cloud made to leave.

“We’re okay, right?”

“Huh?” He turned back.

“I know you don’t forgive me just yet, but you’ll give me a chance to redeem myself, right?” Zack began, sounding labored and his eyes struggling to stay open.

“I… guess?”

“Oh, good.”

“Get some sleep.” Cloud turned toward the door.

“You'll be back, won't you?” Zack persisted.

Cloud felt the upward twitch on his lips. As much as this delivery run was a burden on him, he was also relieved that Zack was okay, and awake, and… “Yeah, I’ll be back. I've still got a job to do, after all,” he said without turning around.

“Thanks,” Zack said, barely above a whisper.

Cloud walked away and got to the door, reaching for the handle—

“Burgers.”

“What?” Cloud asked, not sure if he heard correctly, and turned slightly to look back.

Zack's voice came out with more strength, albeit no less sleepy, “It’s burgers.”

“What is?” His fingers curled against the door handle.

“My favorite food.” Zack gave a wonky smile and his eyes slid shut. "I just… I'm sorry. For some reason, I just thought that was important to tell you." A tired laugh rumbled out.

“Oh, okay.” He should have felt embarrassed, but he didn't. Cloud turned back to the door and indulged in a proper smile as he left the room. There was something dumb but charming about Zack, which came as a relief, really. It made the idea of forgiveness easier to swallow and entertain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the coding for the card from [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549178/chapters/25935135).
> 
> I am biting my nails wondering what the general readership mood is after finishing this chapter. I've been second-guessing myself after the reactions on ch 1. Hopefully, Zack and Aerith's actions are understood, and you will continue on with this fic.


	3. The Worst Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud should learn to think before he speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: mild mention of blood. Mention of animal experimentation.

Cloud arrived at the warehouse, parked his motorcycle in the back, and headed inside. Tifa, as always, sat at the front desk, papers and invoices surrounding her and a phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment before returning her full attention to the call.

He nodded back at her, clocked in, and went to his outbox, checking the schedule for the day: only four deliveries _again._ Frowning, he went to the front desk and waited for Tifa to finish the phone call.

“It was good catching up———Thank you. I got them. They're beautiful." She brushed her fingers over some yellow flowers in a vase standing amidst the paperwork, and other paraphernalia like a novelty duck paperweight, and boxing-glove fuzzy dice that hung from the desk lamp. "Cloud will be around soon———mhmm. Yes, Of course!———Have a wonderful day,” she said with a smile and hung up. “Hello, Cloud! Did you have a restful night's sleep?”

“As good as can be expected. Why do you keep cutting my workload? You used to give me ten and now it's barely four.” He waved his sheet at her, pointedly.

“Your pay isn’t being cut, so I don’t see what you're worried about.” She shuffled through papers, straightening up her desk space.

“I like keeping busy during my days. I like to feel like I’m earning my keep.” 

“And you are." She glanced up at him. "I thought it would be good for you to take it easy.”

The frown on Cloud's face turned into a scowl. “I know you and Aerith are scheming. I know you two want me to spend more time with the guy in hospital. _That’s_ why you’re cutting back my workload.”

“That’s not the only reason, but guilty as charged. Is that so bad?” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him, an eyebrow cocked.

Cloud had nothing to retort with. He blew out some air. “I don’t want to be his babysitter. I want to be out there doing deliveries.” He pointed to the back. 

“And you are doing them. This just forces you to slow down a bit. Frankly, I think your workload has been creeping up too much. I know you ask Charlie and Therone to give you some of their deliveries. I don’t like you clocking off at one AM. You’ve been coming in later as well, and don’t forget the days you’ve been stuck sick at home. It’s been happening more lately. I figure cutting back on your workload will help.”

“You're _not_ my doctor.”

“But as your employer I am worried. And as your listed emergency contact I _have_ spoken to your doctor and she says the same thing I’m telling you now: you need to take it easy and not push yourself so much.”

Cloud rolled his eyes. “You seriously want me to believe this is about my health?”

“What else would it be about?”

“I don’t know. You wanting me to _socialize_ more? Have… _friends?_ I don’t _need_ friends who are in the military—or at all.”

Tifa gave him a stare laced with menace. _"Everyone_ needs friends. I'm giving you an opportunity to make room for one. And it's not all about you either. Stop being so selfish."

"How am I being selfish?" Cloud crossed his arms and cocked his hip. He could _hardly_ wait what the retort would be.

"The guy could really use some company. Imagine what it must be like for him stuck in that place all day and night. Visitation hours only last for so long but I've heard a lot of the staff there know and like you, so you can come and go as you like."

"I'm still not a babysitter. Getting only four runs is insulting." 

Tifa's brows knit in thought and her gaze dropped to her desk for a second before she looked back up at him. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Do these four for me today. I'll get you an extra one or two for tomorrow, but absolutely no more than six. Got it?"

He wrinkled his nose and muttered a, "Fine," before he turned and walked away, getting on with his day. 

“And don’t you _dare_ ask your co-workers for more work. I’m keeping my eye on you, Strife,” Tifa yelled after him.

He waved at her without turning around as he left the office.

* * *

He completed his jobs one at a time and in no hurry to get to his last work listing. Late that afternoon he drove out of town and gave Aerith the cold shoulder even though she followed him all the way back out to his van. 

"How are you today?"... "We've been having really lovely spring weather, though it's unusually warm lately, don't you think?"... "The chrysanthemums are starting to bloom beautifully. I've put some in the bouquet for Zack to see." She got the message that Cloud wasn’t interested. The sad look she gave him as he drove off irritated him. 

His frown set ever deeper the closer he got to the hospital. He wondered if he'd find the man asleep—for real.

Cloud did his usual brief acknowledgment of the nursing staff and coffee stop before heading to Zack's room, which he stood out outside of for a few moments, taking deep breaths and steeling himself. Usually, he'd waltz in, just expecting Zack to be non-responsive and launch into whatever tirade he had in mind for the evening—but not this time.

He entered the quiet and dimly-lit room. A hope and prayer went through him that the man was asleep as he eyed the lump under the bedsheets. He still felt infinitely embarrassed and slightly nauseous over having been listened to, even if Zack claimed to not fully recall everything he'd ever said. He supposed he had himself to blame for it. He never should have opened his mouth like he had.

“Delivery from Aerith,” he said quietly, not wishing to rouse Zack if he truly _was_ asleep. 

Yet Cloud had no such luck. Sheets rustled and Zack moved, rolling over and sitting up slowly, with a grunt. A tired and heavy smile crept across his face, setting his lips askew. “Hey, um… Cloud.” Zack yawned and rubbed at his face. 

"I've got a flower delivery." Cloud shuffled a fraction closer.

“Just pop them—” Zack cast a weary glance about the room and with a head-tilt, said, “over there.”

Cloud did as he was asked and stood around, awkwardness rising with every breath. He avoided looking at Zack, choosing to study the sea of flowers that blanketed the far corner of the small, windowless room. It started a tickle in his nose.

Zack thankfully broke the silence, “Pretty, isn’t it.”

Cloud looked back to Zack, to find the man already gazing at him. “Do you really like flowers so much? How does the smell not do your head in? I thought the cleaners mulched these every week. It’s starting to look like a jungle in here.”

Zack chuckle slowly and hit the remote on the bed to lift the headrest up as he said, “I asked them to stop. I like them and the smell. It’s much better than whatever disinfectant they use to clean the place with. And, the flowers make this place feel more like home."

“Home? You live in a compost heap?”

Zack erupted with a hearty laugh, followed by a wincing, “Ow.”

Cloud felt sheepish for his analogy and glared at the flowers.

Zack recovered from his ache and said, as he reclined on his propped-up bed, “Not a compost heap. I was born and bred in the tropics. Gongaga. You ever heard of it or been there?"

Cloud shook his head.

"Ah, well, the whole place is like a tropical paradise. Mom's a super keen gardener and the backyard is her plaything. She always brought the outside inside, so the house is always full of flowers. What about you, where're you from?”

“Nibelheim. You've probably never heard of it.”

Zack visibly shivered. “I've heard stories about the cold. Don’t get many flowers up there, do you?” 

Cloud sneezed.

“Oh… is it the flowers?” Zack asked with concern.

Cloud nodded. “They don’t agree with me if I get too close.”

“Oh. Sorry about that. Maybe come sit over here and away from the flowers. That might help a bit.” He leaned forward and gestured toward a chair that stood by the bed.

Cloud looked at the flowers like they might pounce him and then slowly retreated to the only chair in the room.

Zack cheerful said, “I’ll organize for the cleaners to clear them out more often and I’ll tell Aerith to stop sending me things that make you sneeze.”

With a frown, Cloud looked at the colorful mess on the floor before he sat down heavily on the slightly-padded seat. “If they make you happy you shouldn’t get them mulched or stop her from sending them.” He didn’t need any more reasons to stay. Having an allergic reaction seemed like a good ‘out’ to him if he’d had enough.

“Yeah, well, having someone to talk to makes me happier. Flowers aren’t the best conversationalists.” 

“I doubt I’ll be any better," Cloud muttered.

“No way.” Zack grinned. “You are. So tell me, are there any flowers in Nibelheim?”

Cloud hummed, unsure if he wanted to… _get chummy_. He didn’t know why, but he felt on edge; like he was about to be trapped inside of something. Mildly disgruntled over the misconception, he cautiously said, “Yeah, there's flowers. It’s not a frigid wasteland, you know. During the spring and high summer the slopes turned purple and white, with carpets of wildflowers. It’s really nice.”

Zack’s smile grew into something filled with luminous joy and he had a far-off stare on his face.

Being closer to a now-awake-and-alert Zack made Cloud aware of deep-blue eyes, a naturally sun-kissed complexion, and that square and rugged jaw. Even the slightly gaunt and drawn appearance wrought on Zack by his hospitalization couldn't take away from his striking features. Though the comical way dark hair poked out every which way from the bandage wound around the top of his head certainly offset the handsomeness.

“Sounds nice,” Zack stated, pulling himself out of some sort of a daze.

Cloud shrugged. “What’s jungle life like?”

A sharp laugh burst out of Zack. “It’s not a jungle. I said _tropics_.” 

How that smile got _even_ bigger Cloud couldn’t fathom. “Whatever. It’s all the same. Hot, right?”

“I’m gonna take offense at that, but… yeah. It _is_ hot, and muggy. Can’t forget that. I think that's why I love Aerith’s greenhouse so much. Reminds me of home,” he chuckled and it faded into silence.

Cloud wasn’t sure what to follow that up with. “Well, I think I’m gonna go,” was what came most naturally.

Zack leaned forward in alarm, sucking in an audible breath as he winced. “Please stay. You just got here.”

Cloud rose regardless. “You need your rest. I’m sure you’ve been up all day with visitors.”

“Not true. Today I've only had the head nurse from residential coming in to jab me with needles. That was one hell of an introduction. 'Hello, I'm Bernice Clarke, your assigned nurse when you move to residential in a few days' time. Let me introduce you to my cold hands, my jabby needles, and my dry and sarcastic wit.' Stab stab—" he let out a playful scream and grinned up at Cloud. “—So c’mon. I could use the company,” he begged.

Cloud pressed his lips into a thin line, suppressing the laugh and attempted to remain aloof, eyeing the door. “I’m lousy company.”

“Who told you that?" Zack scolded.

Cloud shrugged. “No one. I know it.”

“Complete lie. You’re funny, and great company.”

Not one for compliments, Cloud deflected, “Should I call your nurse in? Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“What? No. There’s nothing like that wrong with my head.”

“What’s all this then?” Cloud waved his hand around his own head.

“This?” Zack ran his hand over the area Cloud indicated. “Purely cosmetic. To make people feel sorry for me,” he grinned.

“It’s not working.”

Zack’s face fell. “Damn. Guess I went to all that trouble for nothing.” He tugged at the bandages.

“I don’t think you should be doing that,” Cloud cautioned.

“Ah, so you _do_ feel sorry for me,” came a small smirk and wink.

“No. But there must be a reason why that’s still on your head. You’re not a doctor, so just leave it.”

“But it’s really _itchy_. I’m _dying_ to be able to wash my head.” Zack lifted his arm slowly and scratched at his scalp. “And this thing’s really annoying too.” There he scratched at the edges of the gauze on his cheek.

“Why don’t you ask to get it off?”

“Ah… I always get told to quit picking at it while it heals. I think the plaster is there to stop me?” 

“That’s right. It’s gonna scar if you don’t let it heal right.”

Zack laughed without mirth and fell back against the mattress and his pillows. His face scrunched up in pain and then he muttered something to himself and stared up at the ceiling without another word.

The shift in mood was palatable, and something told Cloud this was atypical for the man lying in the hospital bed. There were two options for him now: slip away, or—“Is everything alright?”

The deep blue gaze left the ceiling and settled on Cloud for a while, as if sizing him up. “Yeah. Everything’s good,” came the neutral response.

Cloud wasn't at all sure that it was, but he didn't know the guy, so didn't pry. “Okay. Well then—”

“Yeah, see ya another time. I’m getting tired after all.” Zack rolled over and Cloud headed back to the office.

Yet sadly, despite having left the hospital, Cloud's mind was still stuck on the conversation he'd had. He couldn't reconcile the gloomy mood he had experienced in that room on his departure, with the seemingly cheerful façade Zack had worn before. But whatever. It wasn’t his concern.

###### 

The next time Cloud returned to the hospital he had a hard time navigating the halls. It wasn't because Zack had finally been moved to the residential wing. It was the fact that the move had stirred up the ravenous pack of media vultures.

Unfortunately for Cloud, he got bombarded with questions as some journalists had apparently done their homework and knew Cloud and his business. _“How’s Sergeant Fair?” — “Are you and the Sergeant friends?” — “Your General Strife’s son—why has she stayed so quiet about this?”_

Stone-faced and mute, he pressed through until he got deep enough into the hospital, and past the reinstated military guard, to be free of the buzzing hive of media scavengers.

Anger built over getting recognized and he mentally ran through what fire escape routes he could use to leave the hospital a different way than he’d come in by. His hasty footsteps carried him across the linoleum and then transitioned to plush carpet. The glare of the overhead lights washed out with the ample daylight streaming through large windows along the hallways, and a vast array of large potted ferns breathed fresh air into the space. 

Cloud's bad mood simmered down whilst walking along the hall of the fifth floor. There was a nicer atmosphere here. He briefly wondered if it might have an effect on Zack. Cloud hadn't enjoyed visiting the austere and clinical ICU on a close-to-daily basis. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like living in it for close to four months. 

He headed for the nurses’ station to ask where Zack was staying; there were too many military personnel mingling about to discern a specific door. He approached a woman sporting a well-worn grim expression on her face. Her name badge read ‘B. Clarke. Unit Manager.’

“Don’t tell me you’re another one of Fair’s entourage.”

Cloud lifted the now-squashed bouquet of low-allergen flowers, drawing attention to it. Aerith had apparently had a chat with Zack between Cloud’s last visit and today. Cloud didn’t know if he was happy or sad about not feeling so sneezy anymore. “I’m here to deliver flowers,” he said to the nurse.

"Oh, _you're_ Cloud Strife?" Her voice dripped with disdain.

"I… may be."

She turned her eyes onto a chart she held. The crow’s feet around her eyes deepened. "You've got quite a fan in Mr. Fair."

Cloud huffed quietly. "Which room is his?"

"Second hall, room seven at the very end." She pointed. "Will these deliveries be frequent?—Hey, you two, move away from the supply cupboard," she snapped at the uniformed men loitering near a door.

"Ah… probably frequent." He somehow couldn't foresee Zack magically getting better overnight or Aerith stopping the deliveries.

She eyeballed him and the bouquet. "Stay out of my way. There are already too many people here, now go, get your work done so I can do mine." She turned her attention back onto the flipchart.

Cloud headed to room 7, knocked, entered, and—“Excuse me," he uttered and went to duck out again as he spotted the two highly-decorated Sergeants in the room, wearing their ceremony uniforms adorned with medals.

“No, it’s alright. Come on in.” Zack waved, a far cheerier expression on his face than the last time they’d seen each other.

“I don’t want to interrupt.” Cloud wanted to be sent away. It irked him to be in the company of these people.

“We were just about to take our leave,” the First Sergeant said, nodding to her subordinate.

Cloud entered reluctantly, slipped past the Sergeants, walked around the foot of Zack’s hospital bed, and stood on the opposite side of the two guests. He tried to hide behind the large bouquet he held.

The conversation started up again as if Cloud didn’t exist—“How are your parents? I hope they found the military accommodations suitable while they stayed here,” said the First Sergeant.

“They’re really grateful for having been put up for so long. I know it would have killed mom to be so far away while I was in the ICU.”

The conversation felt too personal for Cloud to be eavesdropping. He carefully studied the flower arrangement in the crook of his arm, trying not to hear Zack discuss his personal life with the Sergeants in the room. He observed the colorful petals, never noticing the different textures of all the leaves until now. Cloud didn't recognize most of the flowers and cuttings present in the bouquet. He wondered if he should pay closer attention to the things Aerith sometimes told him. 

He got bored of the bouquet and looked around the room; the humble kitchenette area opposite of the bed, housing a sink, kettle, microwave, some bench space, and overhead cupboards—Cloud noticed the near-empty jar of instant-coffee and stared at it, almost transfixed. A killer urge and need for the brew parched his throat. If he moved would it draw attention to himself? 

“You can make yourself something.”

Cloud jumped with a start, locking onto Zack, who smiled over at him, and then began talking with his guests again. 

That was all the invitation Cloud needed. He made himself a brew as quietly as possible, asking if anyone would like some. His offer wasn’t taken up and he went back to making himself a drink and then tried his best to enjoy the acrid taste. Coffee was coffee, no matter how bad, and he neared his late afternoon slump, so desperately needed the drink. 

He looked out the large window he stood close to. The warm late-spring sunshine reached in past the drawn-back navy-blue curtains and brightened the mottled-gray carpet. He vaguely listened to the conversation going on but it was filled with references to people Cloud didn’t know or cared to ever know, so he looked around the rest of the room as he nursed his coffee. 

It was far more spacious than Zack’s previous rooms. There was ample room to move between the bed and the kitchenette area. All of Zack’s medical equipment was on the right side, as well as pushed behind the bedhead, and a large azure armchair, meant for guests, stood on the left side of the bed, while still not making the space feel cramped.

Cloud sipped his bitter brew and looked at the bed with its metal side-rails and adjustable backrest. He looked at Zack over the top of his mug: the bandaged head, drips and tubes attached to his arm, and a plain white shirt hanging off his body. Cloud appreciated the man’s animated style of talking: gesticulating wildly and laughing loudly. Zack looked in good spirits and the Sergeants chatted to him amicably. Cloud was impressed by Zack’s jovial nature, considering the guy should by all rights be dead. All the news coverage Cloud had seen confirmed as much. But here he was, teasing his superiors and making jokes.

The conversation eventually died down and then, “Focus on healing. We’ll talk about your active duties once we can get an accurate assessment of your abilities,” said the First Sergeant and moved toward the door.

“No worries. I’ll be back before Lazard can miss me too much.” Zack laughed and gave a sloppy salute. He received smiles from his superiors and then Cloud was alone in the room with Zack, but not before he had received a confronting staredown by the First Sergeant as she shut the door.

“Good thing you showed up, otherwise Sophia would still be talking my ear off.” Zack breathed out with relief and slumped back against his pillows.

Cloud looked at the doorway, muttering to himself, “Why do they always have to get dressed up in all their fancy formal gear.”

“Public relations. Can’t be seen looking sloppy.” 

Cloud turned back to Zack. “Yeah, but what gives with displaying all their medals.”

“If you’ve fought hard you’d be proud of all the medals too.”

Cloud wrinkled his nose over that remark. "You know you got three of them for what happened to you?"

"Yeah," Zack pointed to the bedside stand where a small black box sat. "That's what they came here for, to give them to me and discuss when they might be able to do the pinning ceremony."

Cloud grumbled, looking at the box. "Were the medals worth it?" He regretted his words as they left his mouth.

"Of course medals aren't worth it," Zack snapped and glared. "I didn't do what I did for medals and glory and honor. I didn’t do what I did to get prestige, or a meeting with the president, or to get a book deal. I did what I did to save the lives of the people who matter most to me—" Zack huffed, calming himself. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Cloud stared at his feet and toed the tiles before raising his head. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

Zack hummed, wrinkled his nose, and gave a hard stare at his blanketed legs.

Cloud hated his inability to have nice conversations. He had put Zack in a bad mood once again. “You met the president?” Cloud asked, hoping to redeem himself.

“Not yet, but it’s going to happen once I’m up and about again.”

“And the book deal?”

“Mom told me she’s been getting offers for someone to write my biography. It’s so weird to have people care about my life. Like, who’d want to read something like that?” He huffed and shook his head.

“People who like nudity?”

Zack stared at Cloud long enough for Cloud to feel heat rising to his cheeks. He kept saying the wrong things. It’s like he turned into a complete fool as soon as he was in front of—a slap of laughter erupted out of Zack. Cloud flinched and felt the force of the mirth hit him square in the chest.

“Nudity and no shame…” Zack chuckled. “I really feel like I gave you the wrong impression of what my life’s been like.” Zack wiped at his eyes and shook with laughter until it petered out.

They remained in each other's silent presence. Zack’s smiling stare grew the discomfort in Cloud. He searched for something to say that wouldn’t embarrass him or upset Zack— “So… new room, huh. Good thing Aerith keeps sending flowers. We can make this one into a jungle as well,” Cloud gestured to the bouquet sitting on the counter. “You want these anywhere in particular?”

“Mm, maybe by the window?”

Cloud nodded, set down his cup of coffee, picked up the bouquet in its planter box, and moved it to the window sill.

A big grin flashed on Zack’s face. “They look lovely there. I’m a bit annoyed that Bernice didn’t let me take the flowers when I got moved yesterday. ‘Too many,’ she said,” Zack laughed, and sounded more jovial than he had with his superiors. “I guess it’s a good thing, what with your allergies. Are the ones Aerith gave you today okay? I asked her to not make you sneeze.”

“Yeah. They’re better.” Cloud smiled a little.

“Good… good. Hey, Cloud, can I ask you something?”

The way Zack said that caused Cloud’s stomach to drop. “Depends.”

Zack hummed. “I’ll ask it anyway—I feel like you've got some beef with the military. What's that all about?”

He had no intention of getting into his ‘ _beef’_ with anyone so turned his attention to the window, looking at the top-down view of the courtyard. “This room beats your old one. Private bathroom _and_ you get a view.”

There was a long pause before Zack said, “Shame I can’t use the bathroom by myself, _or_ see the view. Still bed-ridden for a while." A heavy burden thrummed his voice.

Cloud's stomach twisted over having said something unpalatable once again. He tried to brush over it with, “What’s the deal with that? What exactly is wrong with yo—” Cloud stared at his own reflection in the glass, his mouth hanging open. He spun around on a dime to face Zack, who stared back with a wide-eyed expression on his face. 

Cloud wanted to scream at himself for being so insensitive. His mouth flapped until his mind finally found words that wouldn’t make things worse, “S-sorry. That came out all wro—” 

Zack laughed and waved his hand. “I love how you don't mince your words. I ask myself that same question every day.” The grin faded slightly. “The answer is _too many things_. The surgeons pulled like two hundred bullet fragments out of me. My body’s like swiss cheese, but somehow all my vital organs were missed, though I did have to get a kidney removed. But I only need one, so that’s okay. My legs,” Zack’s voice quavered a fraction, “are the worst. I can barely wiggle my toes. Everything hurts—despite the meds. And they got me on some heavy shit.” A heavy frown knit Zack’s brows together. 

Cloud wanted to kick himself to the curb. He should be banned from seeing Zack. He said the wrong thing at every turn. “I’m so sorry.”

The frown on Zack’s face passed like a cloud chased away by strong winds. “It’s fine. _I’m_ fine. I am stronger than this. I won’t let a few injuries define or change me.” He gave a broad smile and a thumbs up. “And it’s good, y’know. From time to time I get some good news. Like, I get this headwrap off in a week. It’s gonna be _amazing_ to wash my hair.”

Cloud smiled, though it pained him, as he still felt rotten for what he’d said before. “It’s good you’re staying so positive.”

“Nothing else I can be in here, right?”

Cloud hummed, trying to sound encouraging. He knew of many other things one could be when stuck in hospital. Positive was by far the best answer, and one he knew he would struggle with, were he in Zack’s shoes. He went back to the kitchen counter and picked up his cup of coffee, “How long will you be staying in the hospital for?”

“Well, hopefully not _too_ much longer. I’ve got a bunch of surgeries scheduled, to patch up my legs.” He patted his blanketed lap. His legs looked to be in bandages or casts, judging by how the blanket sat over the top of them. “I’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“That sounds great.” Cloud didn’t want to dampen the optimism. He didn’t want to say another wrong thing. He tried not to think about his own grandfather and how horrific war injuries had crippled and maimed him for life. He genuinely hoped Zack would bounce back.

“Yeah, it will be. Now tell me what’s outside of that window, because all I can see are sky and clouds.” Zack looked quite serious. 

Cloud cocked an eyebrow, casting a glance over to the window. There were nothing but blue skies today. “Sometimes I hate my name,” he grumbled.

“Aww, c’mon. I think it’s a beautiful name.” A soft smile unfurled. “You’re like my silver lining.”

Heat stirred in Cloud’s chest. “Keep it up and I’ll leave.”

“Aww, c’mon.” Zack wrinkled his nose playfully. “Tell me what’s outside.” He pointed his chin to the window.

With a huff, Cloud turned away and went to the window to stare out. Between sips of his coffee, he said, “There are more hospital buildings. Trees. Bushes. A path into the hospital. Some benches. People sneaking cigarettes. Lots of pigeons—some lady is feeding them. That’s about it.” Cloud looked over his shoulder.

“Sounds amazing.” There was no hint of sarcasm in those words. 

Cloud turned around, finished his coffee, and grimaced at the extra bitter and burnt dregs which slid down his throat. He went to rinse the mug off in the sink whilst he smacked his lips with disgust.

“Bad brew, huh?”

“Always.” He quickly washed the mug.

“I would have thought the instant stuff here is better than what you can get out there at the vending machines.” 

Cloud placed the mug away to dry, shook his hands, and made his way to Zack’s bedside. He sat down on the azure upholstered armchair. “It’s all roughly the same consistency of bad.”

“Then maybe don’t drink it? Or get something better on your way here?”

“There’s no decent places on the way here. It’s all truck stops and those places have even _worse_ coffee if you'd believe.”

“I would. You're a coffee connoisseur? Or just an addict?” Zack winked.

Cloud chuckled, relieved over having an amicable conversation for once. “It’s not an addiction. I’m self-medicating.”

“For what?”

“Fatigue.”

“Must be pretty bad if you’re willing to torture yourself.”

Cloud nodded, which netted him a sympathetic, “Aww.”

“Quit it. I’m the one who should be ‘ _awwing’_ _you_ instead.”

“Go on then.” Zack smiled ever brighter.

Put on the spot, Cloud robotically said, “Aww. There, there.”

“Can I get a pat?”

“Am I being too patronizing?”

“No. I really want a pat.” Zack leaned toward Cloud, grimacing with pain as he tilted at his waist and leaned his head at him.

Taken aback for a moment, Cloud recovered and found himself automatically extending his arm and stiffly patting the top of Zack’s head. His hair was thick and greasy. Cloud saw clumps of hair caked in dark red crusty bits. The smell of iron was faint but still there. Cloud felt a stirring of pity inside his gut. He also felt even more patronizing as he patted the man. But Zack’s eyes slipped shut and the already-present smile spread wider.

It coaxed one of Cloud’s own smiles out, but it fell away as soon as Zack opened his eyes again and pulled away.

“Ahh! Thanks for that, Cloud. The only human contact I get is cold nurse and doctor hands and needle jabs. It’s a pretty cruel environment. I’m like those poor baby monkeys they did experiments on.”

“Baby monkeys?”

"Scientists took newborn monkeys away from their mothers to see what would happen. Those that received no physical contact died.”

“God, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, super sad. And I’m like that. I need hugs to survive.” 

A meaningful look was thrown at Cloud, but he chose to ignore it. “Looks like we’re both doomed.”

“Doomed?”

“Yeah. You're stuck in a cold, clinical place, and I have to suffer awful coffee.”

Both men exchanged somber looks. It wasn’t really a fair comparison to make, but the longer they held each other's gaze the more the mood changed. Their faces cracked. Tight lips turned up, and the next moment they both laughed.

“Man, it’s great to have some good company,” Zack said once he contained his amusement. “I can’t believe you don’t think you’re funny.”

Cloud shifted uncomfortably.

“Not one to take compliments?”

Cloud shook his head.

“How come?”

Not knowing how much he should—wanted to—or _would_ disclose, Cloud spoke cautiously, “Most compliments are hollow, and things people just say without any meaning behind them."

"You don't think I mean it when I say you're good company?"

"C’mon. You heard the shit I said to you. I'm the _wo_ rst company."

Zack breathed out lightly and shook his head. "No, you're not."

"I am. I keep saying the wrong thing. I see it on your face."

Zack opened his mouth to say something but promptly closed it again, huffing a little. "That's not… your fault. I'm going through a lot right now, and… I get reminded of things. That's more on me than you. I like having you around to talk to."

"You're the only one then," Cloud muttered.

Zack gasped. “What kind of people have you been hanging around with? Let me at ‘em. I’ll beat ‘em up for you.”

Cloud huffed out a small laugh. “No offense, but I don’t need you to defend me. Plus, I don’t think you would be fit for action right now, Mr. Swiss Cheese.”

The air of good cheer fizzled out of Zack and his smile dropped.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered. “See what I mean? I’ve put my foot in it.” He knew he was at least very good at this one thing.

Zack waved his hand at Cloud, dismissing it. “Don’t worry. You’re not wrong. It’s hard being stuck in here. Some days I wake up, rarin’ to go, only to realize I’ve got all this stuff attached to me," he tugged at the IV drip attached to his arm. “That gets me down more than anything you could say to me.”

“What happened? I mean… I’ve seen the reports, but… well, you wanna talk about it?”

Zack leaned back against his pillows. Eyes wandered across the hospital ceiling for a while. Cloud watched as the serene face gradually wrinkled and tensed into a deep frown. Tension lifted and blue eyes returned to look at Cloud. Zack gave a sad little smile and his eyes fell away to the foot of his bed. “I was being a giant idiot.”

“Self-deprecation doesn't suit you. You should leave that stuff to the professionals,” Cloud pointed at himself as Zack’s eyes shot back up to look at him.

Zack shook his head. “It doesn't suit you either, buddy.”

“I think it does. But the point is… you’re a hero.”

“A big, dumb hero.”

Cloud thought he was probably right, but finally refrained from actually saying that. Instead, he said, “But a hero nonetheless. You saved a bunch of people. _And_ you didn’t get yourself killed in the process. Win-win. Right?”

“I like that you don’t deny my dumbness,” Zack smirked, but his nose wrinkled with distaste. 

Cloud groaned. “Sorry, I suck at this.”

“You don’t. It’s refreshing, you know. Someone agreeing with me instead of telling me how great I am.” Zack’s gaze fell away and he stared off toward the window in silence. 

Cloud sat patiently but wondered what he was still doing there. Somehow he had gotten sucked into a big conversation with a guy he didn’t even know. He had to concede that there was a certain likable quality about Zack. He didn’t seem full of himself. He didn’t seem like everything Cloud had feared he would be. And that made him a tiny bit resentful. He wished he could go to Aerith and tell her she had been completely wrong in her assertions.

Zack breathed in deeply, which could only signal one thing… “You're right. Of course you're right. I made it, and managed to get my comrades and friends out of there.” Zack flashed a smile but it didn’t even reach past his nose. 

Something heavy sat inside of Zack and perhaps more needed to be said, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Cloud shifted in his seat. His need for clarification, rather than the ensuing silence, made him uncomfortable. “What’s bothering you?” 

An audible exhale of breath was followed by, “Nothing. I’m getting tired. Bernie will be here soon to jab me.”

Cloud got the hint that Zack wanted to be left alone, but he had one last thing to add, in some vain hope of making up for the verbal diarrhea he’d suffered that afternoon, “I got some intel from Barbara in the ICU before I came up. You wanna hear?”

Zack hummed. His jaw visibly clenched.

“Barbara said Bernice loves lifestyle magazines. I could go to the lower floor, get some and bribe her if you need something to fend her off with.”

A smile broke Zack’s austere veneer. A breathy laugh followed. A softness returned to Zack’s eyes and he looked at Cloud. “Thanks for the offer, buddy. I don’t think I’ll be taking you up on that, but I’ll keep her weakness in mind if I ever need to butter her up for a favor.”

Cloud kept the sigh of relief inside. Seeing Zack less on edge felt like sunshine on a cold day. “I’m sure you’ve already charmed her.”

A wicked grin crept across Zack’s face. With a quick raise of his eyebrows, he said, “You think I’m charming?” 

Cloud blinked rapidly. That turnaround left him feeling exposed and heat rose to his cheeks. “I don’t. I’ll go now.” He made to get up.

Zack whined before throwing out, "Can I get a hug?"

Cloud froze, halfway up and out of his chair, and studied Zack; his eager smile, a strain and shake to his reedy arms like they weighed a ton as he spread them and reached out to receive his requested embrace.

Cloud didn't want to do it. "Here," he stood up and stuck out his hand, "Will this do?"

Zack's smile dropped. "Not really. Baby monkey, remember?" he howled plaintively like the world’s saddest primate.

Cloud rolled his eyes and a weird twinging sorrowful amusement filled him. He tried to keep the smile off his face as he leaned down to appease the other man. Zack’s eyes brightened and he latched on to and pulled Cloud down against himself. 

Cloud, with his chin tucked against the crook of Zack's neck, gingerly folded his arms around Zack's sides and placed his hands on the man's back. He felt ribs and shoulders and even bandages under the thin shirt. 

Zack clung, his fingers softly digging in and grasping Cloud’s light-weight jacket. He nuzzled into Cloud's hair, breathed deep and slow, and kept holding on. 

Cloud’s shoulders ached, unable to relax into the unnatural physical contact. He wasn’t used to this. 

Zack thankfully let go, wearing a smile and a deep russet dusting his cheeks. “Thank you for making this monkey happy.” 

Cloud stood up straight, rubbing at his hair where Zack had pressed against him. “Least I can do, I guess.” The smile Cloud received was too powerful and he couldn't hold eye contact anymore. “I’ll leave now.”

Zack’s jubilant smile carried in his voice as he said, “Okay. I’ll see ya next time.”

“Later.” Cloud waved and headed out, hoping he would be able to avoid anyone from the media.

###### 

The next time he visited—carrying a massive fern, since Aerith decided that Zack’s new lodgings needed something with longevity—Zack seemed in a chipper mood; what happened at their last meeting a ghost of a memory.

“Whoa. Leave it next to the door. The less direct sunlight it gets the better,” Zack greeted as Cloud figured out how to open and close the door while not dropping the potted plant on his feet.

Cloud carefully set it down and huffed. “This better be one special plant. I nearly _died_.”

Zack laughed, which made Cloud feel like it had been worth it… but only for a fraction of a second.

“That plant grows all over Gongaga.”

“Your tropical, humid mess of a hometown?” Cloud stretched out his back and arms. Carting the plant around the hospital had taken its toll on him.

“Yeah. There’s one at my folks’ backyard. It’s as tall as a double-story house.”

“I’m glad Aerith gave me a little one to bring over then.”

More gleeful laughter sounded from the hospital bed. Cloud gave him a small smile and went to leave.

“Whoa, you just got here. You gotta stay,” Zack protested.

“I’ll be back. I need some coffee. Couldn’t get any with my hands were full.”

“So stay. It’s your lucky day.”

His interest piqued, Cloud stepped away from the door and tentatively moved further into the room. “How’s that?”

Zack pointed across to the kitchenette where—

“Is that… a _coffee machine?”_ Cloud’s eyes darted back toward Zack. He saw a wild grin.

“Sure is. I had a friend bring it over yesterday.”

“You drink coffee?”

“Not really. I don’t have a need to self-medicate. Got enough going through my body right now.”

“Then why—” Cloud got a sinking feeling. He was never one for the kindness of strangers; too suspicious of ulterior motives and such. He eyed the machine warily.

“It’s so you don’t have to drink the awful stuff. I’ve been assured this makes a nice brew. It’s got those capsules. The cupboard’s full of different flavors. Go and pick one.”

“You… got this for _me?”_ Nausea and suspicion started to rise.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“As a thank you,” Zack insisted, smiling brilliantly.

“I don’t need a thank you. I get paid to come here and deliver things.”

“But you don’t have to spend time with me. No matter what Aerith says. Is… everything alright?” Zack tilted his head, sitting up a little straighter, though the strain of the motion caused a wince to dampen his smile.

Cloud wiped the frown off his face, replacing it with neutrality. “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did. You're not in my debt or anything, if you’re worried about something like that.”

“I just… m'not used to random people being nice,” he said quietly, clutching his hands into fists.

“I’m not random though. I thought we’re friends. Aren’t we?” Zack’s cheerful smile flattened and turned into an uncertain frown.

 _Friends_. What a completely alien notion to Cloud. “I’ve never been good at making friends.”

“Well, I consider you one. How about we make it official by having a drink together?”

The invite was enticing, and it wasn’t purely the thought of a decent cup of coffee either. “I thought you said you don’t drink coffee.”

“And I don’t. But you should find boxes of hot chocolate in the cupboard. I’ll have one of those. I hope you don’t mind making the drinks. I’m kinda stuck here.” A sheepish look came over Zack’s face.

“Oh, right… sure.” 

Cloud got busy locating everything he needed to make them some hot beverages. Zack tried to guide him as best he could from his bed, when it came to locating mugs, as well as figuring out how to turn the machine on.

It took a while, but eventually, Cloud sat in the chair next to the bed, and both men cradled and sipped their drinks.

“So tell me what’s been happening on the outside?”

Cloud chuckled into his drink.

“Something funny?”

“You just made it sound like you’re in prison.”

“Oh.” A small smile drew Zack’s face up. It grew bigger and then a laugh burbled out. Though in another breath, and sounding rather serious, he said, “Well, I’m stuck here so this kind of _feels_ like a prison. My warden comes to inflict torture on me—”

“Torture?” Cloud said in alarm. “Bernice isn’t _that_ bad, is she? Should you make a complaint?”

Zack chuckled. “Oh, no. I’m being a bit melodramatic. She’s… _nice_ is probably being _too_ kind—she has a job to do and she does it well. I just _hate_ needles,” he finished in a whisper.

That cracked Cloud up. “You’re a big army wuss.”

“Shhh, not so loud. Don’t give the game away,” Zack waved his free hand around to shush Cloud.

Cloud laughed louder, but Zack’s face fell. “It’s fine for you to laugh, Mr. Free Bird. I hope you think about me and my suffering over your dinner. The food here’s definitely prison quality.”

Cloud nodded solemnly. “I know.”

“You gotta bust me outta here, buddy.”

“I really can’t. Security’s tight. It would take a century’s supply of lifestyle magazines and boxes of chocolates to get you past the guards, and I’m not made out of money to get that done,” Cloud played along. He definitely enjoyed himself and thought that perhaps this could turn into a friendship with time.

Zack groaned and slumped back against his pillows. 

“But—”

Zack's hopeful eyes shimmered. “Yeah?”

“I can try and sneak in edible things and maybe pull some strings with the head nurse.” Cloud’s mind began ticking over with some of the things he could try and do to make Zack’s hospital stay enjoyable.

“You’d do that for me?”

He shrugged. "I like having tasks to do.”

“Is that why you like your delivery job?”

“I’m definitely not in it for the customers. But I like getting things delivered on time.”

Zack’s face fell marginally. Cloud realized that he had put his foot in it again. He wondered if he’d ever learn.

“Are all of your customers terrible?”

“No. Not all of them. Some are quite tolerable.” That was as good as Cloud could give right now. It seemed to do the trick as the smile returned to Zack.

“Tolerable? I can work with that. So tell me about what kinda horror customers you’ve had today. I love hearing about that.”

Cloud thought Zack must truly be starved for human interaction and news of the outside world for him to find Cloud’s stories mesmerizing. But Cloud indulged in the small bubble of joy which rose as he started debriefing about the shit that had happened to him that day.

Embarrassed heat did well in his chest because this was so reminiscent of all the other times before. Yet, he had a captive audience now. The comfortable familiarity outweighed the difficult feelings.

And when their drinks were all finished, and the stories ran out, it was time to go. Zack opened up his arms again, making small monkey sounds while he wore a hopeful expression. Cloud resigned himself with a sigh. He slipped into the warm embrace, letting his eyes drift closed for a moment. Warm arms gave him a squeeze and he pressed his hands against Zack’s back with a slight bit of purpose. 

“We’re friends, right?” Zack husked against Cloud’s ear.

Cloud breathed deep as if trying to catch those words and trap them inside his chest. He pulled away, feeling hands slide against his body and rest on his hips as he held on to Zack’s shoulders. “I guess.”

Cloud left the hospital, but the big, bright smile he’d received from Zack lingered in his mind well into the evening and as he eventually fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was longer but I've been looking at my workflow and splitting some chapters in two. Sorry if it feels like nothing much happened here. We're in 'establishment mode' right now.
> 
> And a song from the playlist for this chapter - [Friends with Feelings by Alicia Skye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFg1hh7WetA)
> 
> Two things I forgot to mention - the baby monkey stuff is sadly a very real thing that happened. Also, I first wrote this in 2017 and when I came back to this story this year and reading over my notes I was like 'why the hell are there mentions of monkeys?' and I thought Zack 'making monkey sounds' in my notes was a typo. But then I remembered what that was all about and it made sense to me again, lol!
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. You guys give me life to keep bettering this story! ❤️


	4. Monsters Under the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud tries to make Zack comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's pretty fluffy in spots. No warnings apply,

The thought of Zack cooped up in the hospital with nothing but four walls to look at, kept Cloud up at night more than he’d like to admit to anyone, even himself. The concept lingered in his brain, unsettling him. He kept rehashing how terrible it must be to feel so trapped in a location, especially for someone like Zack. Cloud, personally, didn't mind the idea of being isolated somewhere, but despite his different temperament; not being touchy-feely; not caring for social interactions; preferring his own company over others, he also conceded that he’d probably hate being in Zack’s shoes right now.

It grew the sentiment of wanting to do something for Zack. He got an idea and then did some serious leg-work to fulfill the plan: when he found the time, he inquired about getting Zack a television for his room with full cable access. He went to ask the nursing staff directly, but they suggested he head down to maintenance, who directed him to the volunteers’ desk, which just sent him back to the nurses’ station, who _then_ sent him to the residential management team, and eventually back down to maintenance. 

Accomplishing the task took about two weeks of exhausting sweet-talking and dropping Zack’s name left, right, and center during his visits to the hospital. 

It was a bright spring afternoon, with boundless sunshine and blue skies, when he walked into Zack’s room holding an assortment of blue-hued flowers. 

A robust and exuberant exclamation of, “There he is! My hero! My savior!” rang through the air.

The smile attacked Cloud’s face as he closed the door behind himself. He struggled to bite it down, but on turning to face Zack his smile left him for an open-mouthed stare. “Your head.” 

Zack sat in his bed, as always, but his bandage had come off, revealing a thick mane of lush deep black hair, slightly spiked at the top and just falling past his shoulders. “Yeah, I was finally able to have a wash. Felt incredible!” He combed his fingers through his hair, wearing a very pleased-with-himself smile.

“Looking good.” And Cloud meant it. The man looked stunning: less ill and broken.

“Ahh, so this is the famous Cloud,” an unfamiliar voice sounded to the right. 

Cloud turned so he could see over the bunch of flowers. He noticed a man in casual attire walking toward him. “Famous?” he queried.

“Zack can’t stop talking about you,” came the cheerful statement.

Cloud’s skin prickled with discomfort and he looked at Zack for some help or clarification.

“Well, when you’ve got someone as amazing as Cloud in your life you’d talk about them all day long too.” Zack grinned ever so brightly. “Cloud, this is my friend, Kunsel. He finally got around to visiting me.”

Cloud stared, a little bit like a deer caught in headlights, but he composed himself enough to get out a lame, “Uh, hi,” and shifted the flowers so he could shake the other man’s held-out hand. Zack’s words stuck in his head though, making breathing difficult.

“Hello,” the man, sporting some stubble and swept-back chestnut-colored hair, smiled generously before he spoke to Zack over his shoulder, “Don’t be so needy. I got here as fast as I could.” He turned back to Cloud and quietly said, “I’m glad you’re keeping him company.”

Cloud gave a curt nod. His voice dropped as he said, “Being stuck in a place like this is hell. I’m just trying to make things more bearable for him.”

Kunsel stepped closer and lowered his voice to match Cloud’s, “Thank you so much. He really needs it and you’re a huge help.”

“Hey, don’t hold out on me. I want in on the conversation,” Zack whined.

“We’re just talking about what a handful you are,” Kunsel said to Zack and then, “Let me take those,” to Cloud.

“Don’t be like that, Kun. You’ve missed me. I know you have. I saw it in your eyes when you came in.”

Kunsel returned the grin which Zack flashed him, while finding a spot for the flowers. “I think you missed me more. I saw you wipe away those tears,” he teased affectionately.

Zack gave a mellow smile. “You know I love you, buddy.”

“Love you too, man. I can’t believe—no, no, wait. I _can_ believe that you’d get yourself into a mess like this.”

They chuckled and grinned at each other, fist-bumping when Kunsel came over to the bed after having dropped the flowers on the kitchen counter. Zack pulled on Kunsel’s arm, dragging him into a big hug. He hummed in delight and Kunsel groaned from the apparent rib-crushing intensity of the embrace before extracting himself.

All eyes were on Cloud, making him uncomfortable. He crossed his arms and looked to the floor.

“Hey, Cloud, come here,” Kunsel beckoned.

“Hmm?” Cloud approached cautiously.

“I’d like to take a photo of you and Zack together.” He stepped aside and pushed Cloud toward the bed.

“Together?” Heat welled in his chest.

“Oh, yeah!” Zack beamed, excitement lifting his voice and widening his eyes. He sat up straighter, a little wince gracing his lips and brows. He made room for Cloud to sit next to him.

“Why?” Cloud asked, rather uneasy, while a warm hand on his arm tugged him onto the bed gently.

“Posterity’s sake. We’ve been taking photos of everyone around here who’s been looking after him,” Kunsel informed from the foot of Zack’s bed, now holding an impressive looking camera.

“What? Even Bernice?” Cloud said.

“Especially Bernie,” Zack laughed, winding his arm around Cloud’s waist, pulling them close together.

Cloud looked at Zack, which he regretted instantly as they were almost nose to nose. His stomach dropped. He pulled back a bit but didn’t—or couldn’t—stop looking at honey-brown smooth skin and attractively-lidded blue eyes, all framed by raven-colored strands of hair.

Fingers lightly twitched against Cloud’s side. The touch felt so hot against his clothes as if searing through to his flesh. Cloud grew hyper-aware of the way he sat pressed against Zack; fitting into his side so snuggly, even though he could also feel bones sticking into him. Yet he just couldn't stop staring.

The award-winning smile didn’t abate. “You’ll let Kun take a photo of us together, yeah?” 

The words snapped Cloud out of the spell he’d fallen under. Embarrassed to remember that they had an audience, he tore his gaze off Zack, nodded, and weakly said, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Zack’s smile turned up into a broad grin. “Awesome!” He pulled Cloud even closer against himself as they faced Kunsel. Cloud, getting very squished, slid his arm behind Zack, lightly touching the man’s back.

“Alright, guys. On three.”

Cloud looked at Kunsel, who had finished fiddling with his camera’s settings.

The countdown began. Cloud tried to produce the best smile he could give, considering his current too-close-for-comfort circumstances. His senses hype-fixated; the feel of Zack's arm slung around his middle, fingers shifting and lightly squeezing his hip; the fresh mint scent prickling his nose; the heat seeping into him and mingling with his own internal inferno—

The shutter clicked a million times; a diffused flash left a dull sunspot in Cloud’s retinas, and then it was over.

“Beautiful. You guys look really great together. Super photogenic,” Kunsel announced, checking the LCD display on his camera.

If Cloud hadn’t been red-faced before, he certainly was now. 

“Lemme see, bud.” Zack stretched out his free hand, making a grabbing motion, while his other arm stayed around Cloud, holding him in place.

“Just trust me when I say it’s great. I’ll bring you copies.”

“No, c’mon. We both wanna see. Ain’t that right, Cloud?”

Cloud stuttered something incoherent. Zack was way too close.

“If I show you, you’ll go through all the photos, like you’ve done every single time before, and then I’ll be here for another eternity.”

Zack leaned his head to the side, his gaze dropped before finding Cloud’s eyes again, and he said, “He knows me too well,” before turning his full attention back onto his friend. “What’s wrong with staying here for an eternity?”

“Everything. I have to go. My parents are expecting to have dinner with me while I’m on leave, and it’s about an hour to get there—no, don’t give me that look.”

Zack pouted woefully. “You only _just_ got here.”

“Correction—I’ve been here for _five_ hours.”

“Really? I swear it’s only been twenty minutes.”

“What can I say; you've never been good with time, especially when it flies.”

“C’mon. If you’ve been here for five hours what’s another twenty minutes?”

“Everything." Kunsel took the lens off his camera and started putting things away in a bag. "Don’t even try to make me feel bad. You can’t. You’ve got Cloud to take my place and keep you entertained.”

“Nobody could ever replace you,” Zack practically cooed.

Kunsel scoffed and rolled his eyes with a smile. “That won’t work on me. bud.”

“Fine. I forgive you for bailing on me. You’re right, Cloud’s way better company.” Zack accepted with a smile directed at Cloud.

Throughout the exchange between the two friends, Cloud had been getting hotter and hotter. Zack’s unwavering hand on his side burned into his senses. The man’s body pressed close left him painfully aware of his pulse in his stomach. Zack’s hand curled into the curve of Cloud’s waist made it hard to breathe deep. He mustered up enough strength to actually pull himself out of the awkward embrace and scooched off the bed. Turning around he was met with Zack wearing a sad and forlorn look, like Cloud’s absence was a devastating blow to him. Something stirred inside of Cloud at that sight.

But the look vanished in an instant and Zack faced Kunsel as the man started speaking, “I'll be back tomorrow before I have to go out into the field again.”

With a heavy sigh, Zack said, “Okay. I’ll see ya then. And don't forget to bring—”

“Twizzlers. I know.”

Arms folded, reproachfully. “Clearly you don't, or I'd have some in my mouth right now.”

“You’re so demanding and ungrateful. As if my presence alone wasn’t enough,” Kunsel lamented and picked up his bag, marching toward the door. “Good to meet you and good luck, Cloud,” he threw out with a nod and kind smile. “See ya tomorrow, man!” he waved at Zack.

“Love you!” Zack made a heart shape with his hands while Cloud gave a polite nod.

The door opened and closed and then it was just the two of them. A brief wondering flitted through Cloud’s brain over whether or not Zack and Kunsel—

“I got a TV! Bernie said it was all thanks to you! How’d you pull it off? I can’t believe you got me a TV. Cloud! C’mere, so I can give you a proper ‘thank you’ hug!” Zack sat up straight with a tiny grunt, stretched his arms out, and opened and closed his hands in a demanding fashion.

Heat flooded Cloud anew. He let out a nervous chuckle ad his gut twisted at the prospect of sharing a private hug. He shuffled over to the bed, talking as he went, “It was nothing really. I just thought you could use a distraction.” He bent down, Zack pulled him close and squeezed him with more strength than all their previous embraces.

“You are simply incredible,” Zack pushed Cloud away to look up into his face, still holding him tight around his biceps. “Thank you for going to all this effort for me.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Cloud downplayed, not wanting to feel any more appreciated than he currently was.

“I know that’s not true. I tried to get Scarlet to sort something out but she kept telling me it would take ages to get it cleared with work _and_ the hospital. And if _she's_ struggling to get something done… well… you're amazing! Though,” Zack muttered to himself, "maybe she said that just to shut me up and didn't actually bother trying to get anything for me…"

“You’re not going to get into trouble from me getting this organized, are you?” Cloud looked on with rising panic.

Zack laughed and slid his hands down the length of Cloud’s arms, caressing his hands and fingertips before he completely let go. “Oh no. If the hospital installed the TV, which they did, then it’s all fine. After that was installed Scarlet got me the full cable package. So c’mon, sit down, and let's give the TV a go.” Zack patted the spot beside himself where Cloud had sat before.

Zack’s touch left a tingle and prickle against Cloud’s skin. The thought of sitting _next_ to him was too much to take. He went and sat in the guest chair, trying to ignore the way Zack’s brows scrunched together with disgruntled disappointment. He felt frazzled by everything that had happened this afternoon: the photo, the close proximity… he could swear he still felt Zack’s warmth felt imprinted on his side. He didn’t know what to make of it so tried to distract himself by saying, “I’m glad you like the TV.” He looked up at the ceiling-mounted device by the foot of the bed.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”

“You really don’t have to. Just get better so I can stop bringing you bouquets.”

Zack laughed at that. “You got it, boss—the getting better part anyway. I might still need floral arrangements delivered to me though.” Zack’s eyes twinkled with moisture.

Cloud cleared his throat. “Your friend—Kunsel—he’s nice. You seem close.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s one of the best people I know. Loyal, devoted to his job, a _hilarious_ drunk. We’ve known each other for years. Since I was a cadet, really.”

“Is he also in the military?”

Zack rapidly flicked through a multitude of channels while he spoke, “He’s a photojournalist. He’s been assigned to a lot of the campaigns I was deployed on, so we got to know each other really well.”

“Ah.” That’s all Cloud had to say on that matter, though his mind stuck on what it meant for Zack to know someone _really well._

“You got any preference for shows?” Zack asked.

“I like lifestyle things. It’s mindless.”

“Oh, like Ebony’s Storage Solutions?”

“You watch that?” Cloud quirked an eyebrow, surprised that Zack even knew about something as mundane as that.

“Hell yeah. When I don’t have to be anywhere or do anything I like to recuperate by watching Ebony hunt down useless things and give them a new lease on life. Did you ever see the one where she made shelving units out of cardboard scraps?”

Cloud chuckled. “Yeah, I did. I liked that she donated them to that childcare center.”

“Mm,” Zack nodded. “Oh, here it is.” He stopped on one of the myriad of lifestyle channels.

“Ah, it’s the one with the bottle caps,” Cloud noted, and leaned back in the chair, making himself comfortable. “Have you seen this one?”

“Yeah. She makes this really fancy coffee table out of them right?”

“Yeah.”

Zack groaned. “I really like her designs, but I’d rather just buy a table instead of making one. Who has time to find three trash bags worth of bottle caps?”

“Ebony, clearly. She does get paid an awful lot to sift through trash.”

Zack laughed. “You know, had I known when I was little that you could make a living out of this stuff, well… let's just say my life could have been completely different.”

“Are you into dumpster diving?”

“As a kid I was. Come recycling day I used to run around the whole neighborhood, looking for things to play with—oh, don’t look at me like that. For one, I was like seven, and secondly, it was stuff I could make into other stuff, like boxes and metal rods. Not actual garbage.”

A fondness swelling inside of Cloud and he snickered as he imagined a young Zack rifling through trash. “What did you do with the junk?”

Zack reclined and rested his arms behind his head. “Oh, well, let's see. There was the standard sword-fighting with anything long and hard enough to withstand some proper batting. Me and my friends also built this fort out of cardboard in the park behind Janine's house. It had a drawbridge and everything. But some crotchety old nag informed the local council on us and the garbage men came and tore it all down. After that, I started making armor out of whatever I could find and rescued my friend Sayid’s teddy bears from dangerous perils, like being stuck up a tree or needing to be saved from the river. I had to cobble together a pulley system, and got to practice my lasso skills.” Zack grinned and mimed some actions as he spoke.

The giggle started building up inside. “Hey Zack,” Cloud interrupted, wearing a smile.

“Yeah?”

“How did Sayid’s bears get themselves into so much trouble?” he asked on a hunch.

Zack gave a cheeky grin. “They were very adventurous. They needed someone to save them. Lucky for them they had me.” He cocked his head.

“Bet Sayid didn't feel so lucky.” Cloud smirked.

Mouth and eyes went wide with shock. “He was grateful,” Zack huffed, crossing his arms.

 _“Ah_ -ha. Sure.”

“You don't believe me?” Zack still held the look of fake shock.

“Oh, I believe he was grateful to have his toys back after a certain mischievous and energetic kid by the name of Zack got them into all sorts of trouble.”

Zack scoffed while he beamed. “No comment. What about you? Did you do anything fun as a kid?” He rolled onto his side, with an arm propped under his head, and gave Cloud his undivided attention.

“Ah—” Cloud cast his eyes onto the television. “When I was younger I… ah… used to pull garbage out of the river in summer. It was stuff like you used to play with, so… not _garbage_ garbage, you know.” Cloud hazarded a glance at Zack, who looked enthralled and nodded enthusiastically. 

Encouraged, he continued, “I liked to build shelters out of the stuff and see if it held up during winter. I’d rate the shelters by how many hours I could stay in them.” His cheeks heated up with embarrassment over admitting that.

“Whoa, you’re like some survival expert?”

Cloud shook his head. “I never lasted more than three hours, at best.”

Zack whistled. “Man, imagine if we had grown up together. We could have built an impenetrable fortress. One the garbage collectors wouldn't have been able to tear down.”

Cloud huffed with a small laugh. “I doubt that.”

“Aww, c’mon. Dream a little.”

Cloud laughed harder over Zack’s silliness. “Fine. We could have dug out a space underneath and had a hidden room full of teddy bear rescue supplies. Ropes, pulleys. A fire axe.”

“A fire axe?”

“You never know when you’ll need to pry something open, bash something up, or hack off a limb to save yourself.”

Zack roared with laughter. “Whoa, man. They make you frosty boys pretty tough up in the mountains, hey?”

Cloud smiled, warmth prickling his cheeks and ears. He shrugged.

“Well, maybe we’ll leave out the fire axe, but I could definitely have gotten behind a secret chamber. We could have set booby traps. You ever set any traps? You seem like someone who'd have hunted rabbits or something to survive the cold winter.”

“We have supermarkets up there, you know.” Cloud bit down his smile so it wouldn’t get any bigger.

“Oooh,” Zack marveled. “You'll have to take me up there one day, dispel all my kooky misconceptions.”

Cloud shook his head in amusement and shrugged, putting no stock in Zack actually being serious. “Sure. When you're well again.”

“Ace!”

They fell into a comfortable silence watching inane programming. Cloud found it pleasant and couldn't help but steal the occasional glance at Zack, especially when the other man chuckled at things. 

Cloud got caught out in one instance. Zack smiled at him and Cloud, with a flurry of embarrassment, turned away.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Zack said.

"Just wondering if you always wore your hair in a mullet when you were growing up," Cloud deflected. He _had_ been looking at the long black locks after all.

"Huh?" Zack stared back with confusion.

"I hate to break it to you, but when all that stuff with you went down they pulled out your yearbook photos."

"Oh _man,"_ Zack drawled in a high pitch. "Seriously?" He groaned and slapped a hand over his face. "I gotta have a word with mom."

"What were you _thinking?_ " Cloud teased.

Zack groaned louder. "It was the fashion, okay? I'll use that as my defense."

"Accepted."

Zack sighed and the rest of the afternoon was spent browsing through the programming to see what shows they both liked, and throwing out recommendations for other things to try out.

* * *

And so the days went on with them talking about the inane things they had watched in the evenings, and often compared notes on shows they had both seen. When they were together, everything seemed fine. But something niggled at Cloud.

Sometimes he'd come to the hospital to find a sullen frown creasing Zack’s brow, like he was deep in thought, but it passed in a nano-second and a big smile got plastered on. At those times, Cloud could still hear the slight high-pitched buzzing of the television; a hallmark of the device having just been turned off.

Cloud became concerned enough to speak up about it once.

“You’re still enjoying the TV, right?” He went and put the potted fern down on the kitchen counter.

“You know it. Can't thank you enough. Being stuck in here is the worst. It’s so good to see something other than these walls.”

“Oh yeah? What were you watching just then?”

“You know,” Zack shrugged, “the usual. That dumb game show where all the contestants have to wear those hats. Can’t wait for the new episodes of Ebony's to start.”

“Yeah?” Cloud didn't believe him for a second.

“Yeah,” Zack smiled with confidence.

Cloud went over to Zack's bedside and grabbed the remote before Zack could snatch it away. He turned it on and a 24-hour news-cast channel blinked into existence. There were some updates about the war, and inevitably Zack was mentioned as well.

Cloud gave a disapproving frown.

“What?”

“You shouldn't be watching this. You shouldn’t be paying attention to it.” Cloud had paid enough attention to the resurgence of news to be enough for both of them, especially late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

“Aww, Cloud. It’s fine. I just need something to take my mind off being stuck in here.”

“Then watch something mindless.” Cloud flicked the channel over to some kids channel, full of vibrant images and nonsensical plot twists.

“I’m not a child,” Zack growled and lunged at Cloud—as best he could—trying to grab the remote, but Cloud evaded with ease, stepping slightly back from the bed.

“I know you’re not. Maybe that was the wrong channel. Here—” he flicked over to something more adult, but equally mindless.

Zack groaned. “C’mon man. The news won’t hurt me.”

Cloud frowned and bit his lip. He was so close to saying something insensitive again if he didn’t watch it. “It’s also not going to do you much good. You should be focusing on getting rest.”

“I am.”

“You’re stressing yourself out. You’re looking more tired than usual.”

Zack pouted and leaned back against the pillows. He fiddled with his IV drip and remained quiet.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered. He switched the television off and replaced the remote.

“It’s alright,” Zack dismissed half-heartedly. “I should be happy that you care.”

“Caring doesn’t give me a right to baby you. I know how annoying that can get.” Cloud went around to the left, pulled the guest chair to the side of the bed, and sat down.

“Who babied you and how did they survive your wrath?” Zack smiled.

Cloud’s discomfort eased somewhat. “Family. So I couldn’t really do anything about it,” he informed while giving Zack a small glance.

“Oh,” Zack chuckled. “I see how it is.”

“Did your folks ever baby you?”

“Not really. They called me headstrong, and gave up on me a long time ago—in the nicest way possible, of course.”

“Of course,” Cloud parroted. “So what’s with all this then?” Cloud pointed at the plush dog he could see, sitting between two flower arrangements on the tray table on the other side of the bed. “Cute.”

Zack’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Check it!” With some straining sounds, he bent over the far side of his bed.

Cloud instantly got up, “Let me—”

“I got this. Don’t baby me, man,” Zack pushed and Cloud dropped back into his seat, watching as Zack produced a big cardboard box and sat it on his lap.

Cloud looked on with interest as Zack started pulling out plush dog after plush dog of a variety of breeds. The big grin on Zack’s face made Cloud laugh.

“Wow! Who sent you all of these?”

“My Aunt, Margie. She was off on a research expedition for a few months. She came back recently and heard about the news, so she sent me this box.”

Cloud grabbed a little shiba inu lying on the bed. “Let me guess… you’re a cat person.”

Zack gave a big laugh. “What gave it away?”

“Just a hunch.”

“You ever owned any dogs?” Zack queried as he brushed his fingers over the soft toys.

Cloud nodded. “You?”

“Yeah, I did.” He picked out a beagle and held it up. “She looked something like this. Her name was Pumpkin, ‘cause she ate a whole pumpkin pie when we first got her.”

“Really?” Cloud said, wide-eyed.

“Yup.”

“Did she get sick?”

“Yeah, all over the kitchen floor. Mom threatened to take her back to the pound, but I defended her right to be given a second chance. And then a third, and fourth, _and_ fifth.” Zack’s warm, rich laugh reverberated around the room. “She was very naughty.”

“And you’re very headstrong for stopping your mom from getting rid of Pumpkin.”

“Gotta help those who can’t help themselves.” Zack moved the plush dog around in a playful fashion for a bit. 

Cloud looked on, smiling softly at the delicate joy painted on Zack’s face. He caught himself staring and he shook himself out of the reverie, saying, “I think you’ll need a bigger room soon, with all this stuff piling up.” Cloud put the plushie he held down on the bed.

Zack looked around himself. “I hope I’ll be out of here before too much more stuff can accumulate. Even with the TV here, I think I’m going stir crazy.”

“It sucks that you’re stuck in bed.”

Zack nodded and disappointment washed over his face. “I’ve always been on the go all my life. I don’t do well sitting in one spot for too long. And it gets harder the more energy I have.” A darkness came over Zack, drawing his brows together, but it passed, and with lightness to his voice, he said, “I envy you, Cloud. You get to drive around all day. While I’m stuck here, with nothing but flowers and toy dogs. I suppose I could try learning to juggle the mini schnauzers and pugs.” He picked up two of the mentioned plushies and started tossing one after the other into the air.

Cloud looked on for a short while. “You suck at this,” he remarked as Zack kept dropping the dogs on his head, on the bed, and on the floor, forcing Cloud to pick them up.

“Gimme a break. I only just started. I’ll be a pro in two days. You wait and see.”

“This is too sad to watch.” Cloud got up. 

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m going to see what we can do about your mental state,” he declared, whilst heading for the door.

 _“No,”_ Zack boomed, halting Cloud’s movement and making him turn. Zack sat up, his eyes wide. He leaned back, relaxed, and smiled. He laughed a little too loud. “I mean, nah, man. I don’t need it. Just come back here. Don’t do that,” Zack said with hasty desperation and motioned for Cloud to come back. 

Cloud frowned with confusion, never having seen the man act like that before. “Why not?”

“I ah—” Zack went limp. “Don’t tell the staff I’m crazy. Please. I’m not.”

His heart went out to Zack. “I wasn’t going to use words like crazy or mental. I was just going to see what can be done about getting you a change of scenery.”

 _“Oh.”_ Relief washed over Zack. He puffed out a laugh and smiled weakly. “Sorry.”

“Has anything happened to make you… not crazy, but… I guess… _paranoid?”_

“You think I'm paranoid?”

Cloud shook his head. “Poor choice of words, sorry.”

Zack wrinkled his nose in dismay. “I hope I'm not. I keep getting psychs coming in, evaluating me. It’s never-ending. Makes me feel like they’re just looking for something to keep me here for longer or medicate me for.”

Cloud grimaced. “I get it. But…” he looked at the door. “I’m still going to go and see what can be done for you. Is that okay?”

Zack nodded. “Just don’t tell them I’m insane.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Zack huffed in amusement and Cloud excused himself, going out to find a staff member he might be vaguely familiar with.

* * *

Cloud came back into the room half an hour later to find Zack asleep, but just to make sure he quietly said, “Zack, I’m back. Are you awake?” He approached the slumbering man, receiving nothing but silence.

Cloud exhaled heavily and packed the stuffed toys away. There were plenty strewn around on the bed, but also a lot on the floor. Cloud smiled sadly at the evidence of Zack’s attempts at juggling. The idea of Zack being cooped up in this place really worried at Cloud for whatever reason. 

He fetched the last of the dalmatians (wondering if there might _actually_ be 101 of them), popped them on top of the pack of other plush dogs, and stowed the box back under the bed. He definitely didn’t mean to pry, but he saw the other small box under there housing all the well-wishes cards Zack had gotten. He pulled it out and ran his finger over the top of _at_ _least_ 60 cards if he had to take a wild guess at the number. The box was stuffed to the brim. More cards stood on whatever available surface there was in the room. 

It astounded him how much people cared. But… a small part of him wondered why he hardly ever saw people visiting. Sometimes he ran into Zack’s parents. He knew Aerith visited whenever she could, though she apparently rang more frequently. When he’s met Kunsel it has certainly sounded like he wasn’t around much. Cloud saw military officials occasionally. He shrugged it off. It was safe to assume people visited in the mornings, which was a dead-zone for Cloud. He’d never been able to come here before midday. His early afternoons were only possible thanks to work pushing him to get up.

Cloud’s mind wandered back to the cards which he still thumbed. Spotting a bunch of unopened ones, he pulled one out to check. Yes, they were indeed unopened. He frowned at them, looking for a sender’s name and address, which he found nearly printed on the back. The surname, Valentino, seemed _vaguely_ familiar, but he couldn't place it. He looked at the other unopened cards, which might have also been letters, judging by the thickness of the envelopes. They featured a bunch of names that Cloud had no clue about, but a couple more that hit at something at the tip of his tongue.

He stopped prying eventually, put everything back, went outside to the nurses’ station to get paper and pen, and scrawled out a note for Zack, 

**Hey Zack!**  
  
**I came back in but you were sleeping—for real this time. Sorry it took so long. I didn’t find anything practical for us to do but I’ll keep trying.**  
  
**I’ll be back in a few days.**  
  
**Cloud.**

He left the note in easy reach for Zack and left.

It was only when he got home, vegged out before his TV because he just couldn’t sleep, that he recognized the names he’s seen on the letters and cards that sat unopened under Zack’s hospital bed: they were the names of Zack’s dead squad mates. 

Cloud grew restless as he watched the late-night news, finally officially reporting on the casualties. He felt sick thinking of Zack receiving those letters and cards from his fallen comrades’ families. He hoped Zack was asleep right now and not watching this. He felt guilty and ashamed for having gone looking through Zack’s things. He wished he didn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to bring it up with the other man. He had no clue how to even try.

Needless to say, he got even less sleep that night than normal as he worried and wondered about the weight those unopened letters might bear on Zack’s soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter merged with the previous one but then I thought it was tonally different and couldn't consolidate the two halves so thought it better to just split it into two instead of having a weird transition from one bit to the next.
> 
> Anyway, I kinda made myself sad at the end of this chapter and I hope it's not feeling too slow for you all.
> 
> I changed the font for the note Cloud leaves for Zack and I hope you can see it, but if you can't that's ok too. It'll just be the regular font.
> 
> Song for the end of this chapter [Anchor by Birds of Tokyo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLnxD1cFkoM)


	5. Crowning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud takes Zack out for a bit of a break from everyday hospital life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General fic comment... I'm going to bump up the total chapter count to 20. Not because I'm necessarily writing more, but as I read through I'm finding that I can shift the existing chapters into more functional and focused segments. 
> 
> This means things will be moving slower. I hope you'll be ok with that.
> 
> No chapter warnings, except for (maybe sickening) softness.

When it came to hospitals, Cloud was of the mind that no one stuck inside one was happy. Sure, people were happy when they _came out,_ but not while actively stuck inside one. 

Zack Fair, however, appeared to buck Cloud's observed trend. Sure, Cloud had seen some cracks in the humongous wall of energy and cheer, but for the most part Zack's attitude seemed pretty solid. If anything, Zack seemed to become _happier_ the more days passed. It would have usually sickened Cloud, but Zack was getting under his skin… in the opposite way imagined. Spending time with the man was fast becoming Cloud's favorite part of the day.

Seeing him get better let Cloud forget about his own humdrum existence. He was particularly looking forward to spending an hour or so at the hospital on this day, for he had a surprise lined up that he was certain Zack would absolutely love.

Walking into the residential wing of the hospital, Cloud found Bernice, Zack’s appointed nurse, and the be-all, and end-all when it came to decisions around what Zack could and couldn’t do.

“Afternoon, Bernice.”

“Mr. Strife,” she said coolly.

Her attitude no longer fazed Cloud. He knew she kept a no-nonsense and aloof exterior, while inside she was full of passion and care with how rigorous and thorough she was. Cloud could _somewhat_ relate to her. “Is Zack still cleared to leave his room today?”

She rifled through some papers at the nurses’ station and after some flipping through charts said, “I suppose he is. Catheter and IV are out. You’ll have to take a wheelchair though. Fair is under strict rules to not be up on his feet wherever possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Strife, don’t stay out there for too long. He needs his needles at six PM _sharp_. Also," she warned, "if I find out he _has_ been out of his chair this will be the last expedition he will be taking, do I make myself clear?” The crow's feet around her eyes deepened with the scowl she directed at him over the top of her glasses.

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated and made to fetch a wheelchair from the supply closet next to the nurses’ station. He popped the plant he carried onto the seat and wheeled out his green patient while thinking about Zack. Cloud was happy to hear that Zack’s ties to his room were slowly being removed and a semblance of normalcy could return. But as he passed the station he quickly stopped and faced the nurse again. “Bernice.”

“Hmm?”

“Can Zack get the gauze off yet?” Zack was still sporting the patch on his cheek despite his head wrap having come off a while ago.

“It can come off whenever he wants it off. He knows that.”

“Oh.” Cloud found that strange. “Thanks.” He made to leave.

“Cloud—"

The way she said his name made him freeze. He swiveled around to see the typically cold, no-nonsense expression on her face shattered by a smile. “Thank you for looking after him.”

Cloud gave a small nod and a smile of his own. There was the lurking softness.

“And don’t forget to return the chair to where you found it. I want you two back, six PM sharp. Or else,” she barked seconds later.

And just as quickly as it had appeared the softness vanished. Cloud admired the lady and his smile grew bigger as he moved away, thinking about her.

He knocked and pushed open the door when he heard Zack answer.

“Hi, Zack. Where do you want this fern?”

“Hey, Cloud. Next to the sink will be perfect, thanks. And it’s not a fern. It’s a succulent.”

“Whatever. A plant’s a plant.”

A loud gasp erupted. “You talk like that in front of Aerith?” Zack teased.

The smile tickled Cloud’s face, He pushed into the room, wheeling the plant over to where he’d been instructed to do so. “I value my life—I take it this is another one of your native shrubs?”

Zack gasped again. “Don’t call Mother's Kiss a shrub.”

“The what and who now?” He frowned with confusion.

“It’s what it is.”

“So the answer to my question’s a _yes_ then? It’s from your home?” He put the plant on the counter, lightly brushing his fingers over the rigid leaves.

Zack scoffed but nodded. “They love moisture, and when you cut off a piece it oozes out this cool liquid which is great for cuts and bruises. Just like a big sloppy kiss from ya momma.”

Cloud chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “That sounds dumb. You come up with it?”

“Yeah. I thought it made perfect sense.”

“Well, maybe it makes a _little_ bit of sense.”

 _“Yes,”_ Zack cheered with a tiny fist pump. “So what’s with the chair? The plant doesn’t look that heavy.” Zack gasped and flicked his gaze between the plant and Cloud for a few moments. “You didn’t injure her, did you?”

Could hardly contained the titter, though he tried to sound serious as he said, “The plant’s a _her_ now?”

“Yes, she’s a real lady.”

Cloud rolled his eyes despite the smile sitting on his face. “No, _she’s_ not injured. The chair’s for _you.”_

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He came closer, pushing the chair next to the bed. “Remember how two weeks ago we were talking about you being mental?”

“I’m not. And you said that there wasn’t much that could be done to get me out.”

“Well, I was telling a half-truth.”

“You _lied_ to me?” Zack clutched at his chest in an overblown show of affront.

“Half-truth,” Cloud pushed.

“You lied,” Zack accused with hoarse betrayal, but in the next breath turned chipper again, “So what’s with the chair?”

“Now that you aren’t attached to a bunch of stuff we can go around the hospital.”

Zack sat up, eagerness widened his eyes. “No joke?”

“No joke.” 

A big, disbelieving, open-mouthed smile spread. It lifted Cloud’s soul to the sky.

“Alright! Let’s go, let’s go!” Zack pushed the safety rail on his bed down and flung his sheets aside.

Cloud had never seen Zack from the waist down. His legs were covered in loose-fitting slacks, but the fabric sat stretched tight over a cast on one leg and thick bandages on the other. Zack wore no socks so Cloud also saw his red, raw, bloated feet, which seemed to have a fair few healed over scabs on them.

“Ah, the chair,” Zack pointed, all energy draining out of his voice.

Cloud tore his eyes off Zack’s legs, becoming painfully aware of how uncomfortable he was making Zack feel. “Yeah, of course.” Cloud moved it closer while Zack moved his legs like dead weights to dangle them down the side of the bed.

Cloud felt a pang of sadness. “Need a hand?” He held his out, palm facing up.

“Not a baby, remember? Just hold the chair steady. I’ll be fine.” Good cheer returned to Zack’s voice.

It took a bit of straining and groaning, but Zack got himself seated and Cloud wheeled him around to face the door. 

“Oh, can you grab me that blanket?”

Cloud followed the pointed finger and did as he was asked. Zack threw it over his lap, covering himself and looked up at Cloud. “Forward,” he motioned with an energetic gesture.

“Alright.”

Cloud wheeled Zack out of his room and into the wider hospital. Going past the nurses’ station he heard the warning again, “Six PM, Strife.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied and picked up the pace to Zack’s urging of “Go, go, go before the warden changes her mind!”

They left the ward behind, laughing.

“So where’re we going?” Zack inquired after they turned a corner.

“You’ll see,” Cloud said, staying cryptic. He hadn’t told Zack his plans. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint him by setting up his hopes, in case his surprise hadn't gotten the okay. So the fact that this was happening and he could truly surprise Zack felt quite exciting.

They wandered the halls for a bit and rode a few elevators. All the while Zack chatted about last night's aviation disaster program, which they had started watching frequently.

“Am I a bad person for having cheered when it turned out it was a freak fault instead of human error?”

Cloud laughed. “No," he shook his head, "I think it’s alright. No one actually died in that crash.”

“So I’d be a terrible human being if people had died?”

“Yup. But if it makes you feel better… I cheered too when the cause was revealed.”

“Oh good. We can go to purgatory together,” Zack said cheerfully, and then added, in a more serious tone, “Not that I think it would be too different from the hospital.”

It tugged at Cloud’s heart. The more weeks passed the more sympathy he felt for Zack. “Well look, I think I’ve found something that will make this hell more bearable for you.”

Zack tilted his head upward, drawing Cloud’s attention down. “I’ve already got something to make it bearable. Don’t know how anything could trump what I’ve already got.”

That smile and those eyes spoke volumes. A flutter stirred inside his stomach, but the sensation was too big, so Cloud ignored it. “Close your eyes. We’re nearly there.”

Turning back to face the front, Zack did as he was instructed.

Cloud pushed onward, around the last corner, with their destination at the end of the hall. Fluorescent lights gave way to natural sunshine as they forged on.

“You still have your eyes closed?”

“Yep.” The anticipated excitement sat rife in even that one-word answer.

Cloud approached the double-glass doors, pushed a big green button and the doors swung open. He pushed Zack through to another set of glass doors and pushed another green button. Doors slid open, giving way to a fresh breeze, the rustling of leaves in trees, the chirping of birds, and even the gentle burble of water somewhere in the distance.

As he pushed Zack out onto the rooftop garden he heard the deep inhale of breath and could easily imagine that gorgeous, big smile on Zack's face. Cloud felt light and his cheeks strained with his own smile.

"No peeking."

"I won't," Zack husked, tilted his head back and up toward the sky, looking utterly serene. Cloud's breath caught in his chest, but he snapped out of it and kept pushing the wheelchair over smoothe pavement, trying to find a private spot for them to pause.

The days were finally getting longer and warmer, so it was still light and bright outside, even this late in the afternoon. The garden was sizable and not too crowded, so Cloud didn't have to look too long to find something suitable: spotting a bench by a lengthy wall that acted as a water feature and the source of the babbling. He steered toward it.

Zack stayed uncharacteristically quiet the entire time. The dappled light fell on his face and his smile stretched ever further. Cloud wheeled him next to the bench and applied the brakes. He sat down and watched Zack for a while, enraptured by the serenity and peace Zack basked in.

Cloud felt satisfied with himself that he'd done the right thing by bringing Zack out here. He gently said, “You can open your eyes now if you'd like.” He watched with, admittedly, eager anticipation.

Instead of flinging his eyes open and frantically looking around, Zack remained quiet and his eyes remained shut. “I think… I’ll stay like this for a li’l while longer.”

Cloud smiled wider. He felt the happiness deep inside himself and it tickled at his eyes as he watched Zack. At some point, Cloud had acknowledged to himself that Zack was rather handsome. Right now though, he was enchanting and gorgeous. Cloud wasn't sure if it was the natural light or the change of environment, but a change had come over the other man. He looked less exhausted. His naturally sun-kissed skin seemed richer and flawless, his smile somehow grander and deeper, despite it not stretching nearly as broad across his face as Cloud had seen in the past. Compared to all the rest, this happiness seemed… genuine.

Slowly, Zack opened his mouth, and his tongue lightly flicked, moistening his lips in anticipation. “—It's beautiful,” he got out barely above a whisper.

“You haven't even seen it yet,” Cloud teased gently.

The tranquil smile broadened but remained soft. “But I can smell it. And feel it. And hear it.” Zack took a deep breath. “Can you?”

Cloud hunched, elbows on thighs and eyes falling to the pavement in concentration. He heard his own breathing and the babbling of water. Not much beyond that. He chanced another look toward Zack: he still had his eyes closed and looked completely at peace.

“Not really.”

“Be patient.”

Cloud remained still, watching the gentle rise and fall of Zack’s chest. His own breath soon fell in sync and his eyes slid shut. Cloud ignored the noise in his own head and searched for what Zack was on about.

He noticed the breeze first, tickling his skin. The scent of chlorine rose and fell as the wind carried a light mist of water. It prickled his skin and senses. Something else caught Cloud's attention after a few moments. It was a scent which he couldn't name; damp, robust, and… warm… if warmth could be a smell. Maybe it was the smell of the soil? A mildly perfumed scent also drifted on the air. Perhaps it was the flower beds nearby?

The wind shifted, taking away the delicate scents, but bringing with it sounds of children playing somewhere in the distance. The faint honking of car horns and the sound of a pedestrian crossing beeping also drifted along with the wind, reminding him that he was still in the city.

The tension inside Cloud seemed less heavy and tight as he focused on the things around him. He concentrated harder, pulling himself back from intrusive thoughts about what he needed to do when he got home. He caught the way the light and shade danced against his eyelids; a soft chaotic sway, probably from the broad leaves of the tree which he knew to be towering above them.

He felt at peace; the acrid cold of the sterile hospital a distant memory; the stress of bills needing to be paid relegated to the back of his mind. What did it all matter? He was okay right now. He let his eyes drift open, but continued to look at the pavement with a smile on his face. He watched the way the light flickered and danced, casting green-tinted shadows.

A contented sigh next to him drew his attention toward Zack.

Deep blue eyes sparkled and smiled at him. Cloud instantly went rigid and sat up.

“You felt it, didn't you? How beautiful it is?” Zack breathed, eyes unwavering.

Cloud felt the smile he had dropped, return. He gave a small nod and turned his gaze up toward the eternal blue of the sky. It was vast and empty, but Cloud could spot some haze off in the distance.

“We're really lucky to have gotten out today. The summer storms are coming soon,” he thought aloud.

Zack gave a weighted sigh.

“Hm?”

Zack looked at Cloud for a long moment before casting his eyes away, across the garden with its greenery and splashes of vibrant colors. “I can't believe spring is over. It was winter when I arrived here—spring’s always been my favorite season and I missed it.”

“Why's it your favorite?”

A humm was followed by, “Everything dormant comes back to life. Spring is hope and eternal renewal. It's like the season to recharge your batteries—to get you through the year. Least that's how I've always thought of it.” Zack rubbed at his legs under the blanket.

Cloud sat quietly with that thought. Zack’s pensive and melancholic nature, although foreign, also warmed Cloud toward the other man. “Spring will come again. And fall and winter aren’t so bad either. It's a chance for quiet reflection and rest. If we don't rest we can't start over again in the next spring cycle, right?” Cloud glanced at Zack, and saw a quirk of his lip and a delicate smile blossoming which developed into a light chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” Cloud said softly.

Zack’s eyes softened. He looked at his lap and then at Cloud. “Of course someone from the frigid north would be able to see the positives of the colder months.” Zack sighed, but it sounded optimistic. “I suppose you're right. Thank you so much for bringing me out here. I didn't even know the hospital had a place like this. We _are_ still in the hospital grounds, right?”

“Oh yeah. Bernice would kill me if I took you out.”

Both men shared a quiet laugh at that remark.

“I like being out with you. Will you bring me up here more often?” Zack asked.

“Sure. Weather and your warden permitting.”

“Ace.” Zack finally stopped looking at Cloud and let his head swivel around, absorbing their surroundings. “This place is awesome.”

“Oh, you know what I found out?”

“No. What?” Zack leaned toward Cloud.

“The cleaners actually take all the old, wilted flowers that patients receive and leave behind, and turn them into mulch and compost, to help fertilize and maintain this rooftop garden.”

Eyebrows raised. “Oh! So all the flowers Aerith sends me are going into maintaining this amazing place?”

Cloud nodded.

Excitement and energy spread across the previously peaceful face. “That is so awesome to hear. I’ll have to tell her that next time she calls. That’s fantastic that the flowers aren’t going to waste.” Zack looked around some more. Hand went to his face, where he began chewing on a nail and also lightly scratched at the gauze on his cheek, drawing Cloud’s attention.

“Um… Zack.”

“Yeah?” Eyes returned to Cloud, the hand fell away and a big smile spread.

Cloud tapped at his own face. “What’s with the bandage? I asked and Bernice said you could have it off… but you choose to keep it on?”

The smile dropped like it was made of lead, but then returned moments later. “Just making sure it heals properly—think I’m gonna go take a look around—” Zack made to get up but winced and let out an expletive as he sank back down the few inches he had managed to raise himself to.

Cloud had made to get up, but also sank back down. “You okay?”

A heavy sigh was followed by, “I completely forgot that I can’t really move much. Reality sucks,” Zack chuckled with disappointment.

Cloud’s heart went out to the man. “You want me to wheel you around a bit?”

“No. I wanna do it myself. Not a baby, remember?” He wrinkled his nose with amusement painted on his face.

“Not a baby,” Cloud nodded.

Zack tested the wheelchair, rolling forward and backward, turning this way and that. “Alright, I think I’ve got this. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay. Just don’t escape.”

“Wouldn’t dream of getting you into trouble,” Zack winked and smiled, making Cloud chuckle.

* * *

Cloud kept a watchful eye on the time, and the closer it got to 6 the antsier he became. Zack was apparently having too much fun finding all the nooks and crannies of the garden terrace, which made Cloud’s job of finding the man difficult.

The sound of laughter eventually gave Zack’s location away.

Cloud found him, sporting a flower crown and a big grin. Two children also wore crowns and were giggling away.

“Zack, we need to go.”

“Uh-oh!” all three members of the floral party sang out.

“You lose, Zack,” the boy pointed and laughed.

Zack pulled a very sad face, but turned it up into a smile moments later. “Cloud’s too clever.”

 _“Tani, Chester! Time to go home!”_ came a call from across the way.

More _‘Uh-oh’s!’_ followed. 

The children waved and shouted, “Bye, Zack!” as they ran off in the direction of the call.

“Made some new friends?”

“Yeah. Their grandmother isn’t doing too well. They came up here to make a flower crown for her. And then we ended up making some for us too—here.” Zack produced one with dainty blue flowers speckled throughout. “We made one for you too.”

Zack looked too proud of himself for Cloud to refuse. “Ah… thanks?”

“Put it on.” He held it up and Cloud took it, plopping it on his head, where it sat askew due to his hair.

Zack laughed and beckoned Cloud down with a finger. “C’mere. Let me help you get it on properly.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he complained as he knelt down before Zack. gripping the armrests of the chair for some support.

“We can be ridiculous together.”

Zack scooched closer and slid his hands into Cloud’s hair, maneuvering strands and clumps of blond tufs under and over the woven floral decoration. Being this close to Zack unnerved Cloud, especially the way fingers rubbing and scraping against his scalp sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

“You know, Aerith told me a million stories about all the plants she grows, and even the ones she doesn’t,” Zack said quietly. “Did you know that they all have a meaning? Some even have multiple meanings—I should probably bring her up here next time she visits,” he muttered as he worked. “She'd love this place. There's a tiny hedge maze around the corner. She's been thinking of growing one at the greenhouse. Get more foot traffic that way. She’s such a business woman. Really cutthroat, which… I mean, you’ve seen her.” Zack lowered his gaze to meet Cloud’s for a moment. “Ya wouldn’t pick it.”

Cloud hummed. Zack went back to work, gently pulling Cloud’s hair, combing his fingers through.

Why did it take so much _touching_ to get the thing to sit right, Cloud wondered. Heat radiated off Zack’s body and mingled with the heat prickling Cloud’s cheeks. He was so close to Zack. Given a different scenario it might have been… pleasant? He chased that thought away, looking up at Zack’s face without lifting his head. Stern concentration painted the other man’s face. Cloud caught sight of the flowers—daisies—circling Zack’s head. He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “What do daisies mean?”

“Ah—innocence, hope, inner strength. I figured the kids could use some of that right about now.”

Something ruffled inside of Cloud. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“I’m a pretty sweet guy.” Zack pulled back, winked, and finally got his hands out of Cloud’s hair. “There. Now it’s sitting perfectly straight.”

Cloud gently felt around his head to inspect Zack’s handiwork. He hadn’t really taken much notice of the flowers before they went on his head. But he knew they hadn’t been daisies. “What about these. What kind of flowers are they?” He stood up, dusting off his knees and appreciative of the distance between them.

“Oh, those? Ah… I don’t really know. I just… well, I saw the blue and yellow and thought of you,” Zack gave a sheepish grin and carefully rubbed at his head.

If he hadn’t already been so damn hot he’d probably have felt the heat rising at that remark. “Well, thank you.” He tapped his watch. “We really gotta go now though.”

“Okay. If we get in trouble don’t worry. I’ll give Bernie my flower crown. I’m sure that’ll butter her up.”

Cloud got behind Zack and wheeled him toward the hospital halls and their destination. “You really think she’s a flower crown kind of lady?”

“No. But I’m pretty sure you aren’t a flower crown kinda guy, but look what you’re wearing,” he chuckled.

“Fair enough. It’s all on you then,” Cloud smiled broadly.

“No worries. I got this.”

* * *

Zack excitedly chatted about the garden all the way down to his room—and then while he worked on hoisting himself back up onto his bed, as Cloud held the chair in place. “It’s surprising how large the place is. There were topiaries as well. Did you see those? I think one of them—” he groaned and his voice strained as he moved, but he didn’t stop talking, “—was a giraffe… or maybe it was a horse. We should go back up tomorrow and check it out.” 

Cloud forcibly stopped himself from intervening to help Zack, as the man struggled to lift himself over to the bed. His arms shook. Cloud _really_ had to hold himself back. Zack made it and gave a rather satisfied sounding sigh as he shuffled back against the pillows and pulled the blanket over his lower half. “Do you think they use recycled water for the fountains? I saw the kids playing around the spouts. Man, it looked like fun. When I can walk again I’ll do that too.” Zack kept excitedly chatting while Cloud went to wheel the chair to the side of the room.

The door opened and Bernice entered. 

“Bernie, my beautiful, charming carer,” Zack greeted.

“Fair—Strife,” she acknowledged with some annoyance, “You two made it _just_ in time.” She strode over to the tray table attached to the bed, putting the pastel-colored kidney-shaped bowl she carried onto it. 

“Cloud’s an excellent timekeeper.” Zack smiled warmly at him. Cloud huffed and rolled his eyes with amusement.

“Lucky for you. Now, you know the drill. Blanket off, shirt up,” she said without looking up from where she prepared the needles. 

Zack gave a nervous dart toward Cloud and moved very slowly.

“I haven’t got all day, Fair.”

Cloud got a distinct impression that his presence made Zack uncomfortable. He wasn’t usually around at this time of day—coming in a little after 6. “I’ll… uh—go put the wheelchair away.” 

Cloud left the room and took his time putting the chair back and then hung around the nurses’ station. He couldn’t help touching the flowers around his head and thinking of Zack’s touch on himself. He needed a distraction from that and began wandering around the place, looking at all the patient paintings hanging in one of the hallways. Bernice eventually reappeared so Cloud headed back over to Zack’s room, giving the woman a courteous nod as they passed one another. He appreciated the silence between them. He liked how she never bothered speaking with him unless it was needed.

He went back inside Zack's room to see the cheerful smile directed at himself. He also spotted the dinner tray.

"You want some of my food?" Zack offered, lifting the lid on a sad-looking porkchop, a wilted salad, and some fruit.

Cloud took his seat on the upholstered guest chair. "Nah, it doesn't look like enough for even one person, let alone two."

Zack laughed. "Man, what I wouldn't give for a juicy steak."

"With fries?"

"Yeah, and pepper sauce." Zack moaned and stabbed his chop.

Cloud decided it then—"I'll go get us some proper food." He got up and headed for the door.

"What?"

"I'll be back in an hour. Save some room for steak and dessert. You like date pudding?" The grin tugged at Cloud's lips.

Zack stared, wide-eyed for a moment and then he nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I love dates. But, just get one, okay? We can share."

Cloud nodded and turned away before the thought of sharing a date with Zack caused the strange flutters in his stomach to turn his cheeks pink. 

* * *

He returned with the goods an hour later, knocking on the door before entering.

"Oh god, that smells _heavenly!”_ Zack greeted, making Cloud chuckle.

He plated their dinner using the dishes in the cupboards, and they sat comfortably, eating, and watching the television. It was incredibly peaceful and nice. Cloud could hardly believe how much he enjoyed hanging out with someone like this, let alone Zack, over whom he'd had a whole host of conflicting thoughts about a few months ago.

When it came time to share the date pudding, Cloud produced two spoons.

Zack giggled as he dug into the sweet and cakey dessert. Cloud hummed in question around his mouthful and looked at the other man.

"Just thinking that Bernie would kill us if she caught you smuggling food in for me."

Cloud chuckled. "It's good that night shift is lax around here."

Zack nodded and indulged in a few more spoons of pudding before he said, “You took your crown off.”

“Ah… yeah. I didn’t throw it out though. It’s in the van.”

“Ah. You didn’t feel manly enough grabbing steak while wearing it?” Zack winked, and still had his daisy-chain speckled through his hair.

Cloud felt a little bit bad. He shrugged his shoulder and smiled in a lopsided sort of way.

They kept eating and glancing at the TV.

"Hey, Cloud."

"Hm?"

"Your last name…" Zack started off casually enough, but it didn’t stop Cloud’s stomach from dropping. He struggled to swallow his mouthful of pudding. 

"Is anyone in your family in the military, because I know of a couple of Strife's and…" Zack dropped his intense stare.

Cloud put his spoon down. "I’d rather not have this conversation," he said curtly, avoiding eye contact. With a grumpy expression, he turned his attention onto the television and hoped that he’d just answered Zack’s question adequately enough without needing to delve into further detail. _Of course_ this came up. Of course Zack _knew_ ; it was a surprise it hadn’t come up earlier in conversation. There were few who didn't know in Zack's line of work. 

"Sorry," Zack muttered.

They quietly watched more television and the night ended rather awkwardly, with Cloud thankfully excusing himself because of Zack’s yawns and drooping eyelids.

“Thanks so much for today. It’s been the best day I’ve had since before I got stuck in here.”

"You're welcome." Cloud went to clear up their dishes, washing them in the sink and when he turned around again he found Zack to be fast asleep. Cloud looked at him for a long while, the melting pot of thoughts and feelings associated with the man stirring about inside himself.

He felt for Zack. He was annoyed at himself for having ruined a nice evening by having gotten all crotchety. All because of a question about his family. Cloud figured he'd tell Zack one day. He even mildly _liked_ the thought of telling him… of sharing something of himself with someone else. But he didn’t like getting pushed into a corner. He’d tell him in his own time. On his own terms.

Cloud shuffled closer to the other man, reached out and gently touched and brushed his fingers through the thick black hair. Zack didn’t stir. His eyes didn’t even move under their heavily-lidded curtains. A smile tugged at Cloud’s lips and he took great care to extract the flower crown from Zack’s tresses, as he felt for some reason like Zack would hate for them to get crushed in his sleep. 

It took some maneuvering but Cloud managed to get the item off in one piece. He placed it on the tray table, for Zack to do with it whatever he wanted when he woke up. He kept looking at the other man: his chest gently rising and falling, the peace and tranquility of sleep taking away all the unpleasant things Zack had to deal with on a daily basis. Cloud couldn’t guess at all the things that possibly bothered Zack but what he had seen of the man’s legs today, and the patch of gauze he wore on his cheek heavied Cloud’s heart. He reached out and gingerly brushed at Zack’s hair, and gently traced a finger over the gauze on his cheek. He hoped Zack would be okay, and soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this weeks chapter is [Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w)
> 
> There is no easy way to say it so imma just... a storm's coming next week, guys. Batten down the hatches. We're going to be in this for a long while yet.
> 
> Comments and kudos always, _always_ appreciated.


	6. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer brings more with it than just thunderstorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD chapter warning.

The baking summer heat arrived, bringing with it a thick and heavy layer of humidity which blanketed the city, trapping in the sweltering heat. There hadn’t been a breeze in weeks and relief that the situation would change any time soon felt almost hopelessly non-existent.

Cloud’s life plunged into abject misery. The muggy heat made for a wretched sleeping environment. Cloud’s already perpetually exhausted body could hardly cope with even less sleep. It made him sick. His streak of good days ended and he started missing more shifts here and there. But staying at home was terrible because he only had ceiling fans. So he worked himself back up into going out and getting to work so he could spend time in air-conditioned locations—like his van, or the hospital.

But it was tough. Coffee didn’t have its usual effect of starting his engines, and he truly considered just staying in his apartment and dying every time he woke up drenched in sweat as his alarm went off—usually an hour or two after he’d _finally_ gotten to sleep.

And then, toward the end of June, the reprieve everyone had waited for came; a torrential downpour. The clouds drew in, plunging the world into dense darkness, and unleashed fury upon the region in gallons upon gallons of water. The city cooled down somewhat with the returning breeze. Yet, it didn't stop the humidity from clinging to clothes, hair, flesh, and one's very soul. 

Thunderstorms rolled through like ocean waves hitting the shore. The sky sounded permanently angry, with constant rumbling which crescendoed into grand claps of thunder that shook the walls of Cloud’s feeble abode.

The rain affected everyone’s mood and driving abilities. Traffic was horrendous every day that week. It somehow felt worse on this day, for whatever reason. Cloud’s entire day's schedule had been thrown out of whack, and what he did right now wasn't helping his situation either: he sat in his van and had been sitting in there for ten minutes, hoping for a break in the torrential downpour so he could get his delivery indoors without getting waterlogged. 

Cloud was tired of being soaked, sticky, hot and… well, tired. He had taken to wearing gumboots everywhere he went. He also used to wear a raincoat, but the rain had been coming down so hard, he swore he had sustained bruises from it. So Cloud opted for umbrellas, but currently, the five umbrellas littering the floor of the passenger side were all broken. Probably a good thing, judging by the light-show going on above him.

The hospital was a half-minute mad-dash away. Cloud monitored the rain satellite images on his phone, but all it showed was a mass of angry red, which seemed to stretch on for miles upon miles. He wiped at the fogging side-window, peering up into the mass of dark gray clouds, as the waterfall cascaded down the side of his van. With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that he and the flowers were about to look like they had been lost at sea for five days. Cloud took a deep breath, covered the bouquet as best he could with his coat, and made a run for it.

* * *

He made it without getting struck down or blown away by the crazy intermittent wind. He, however, did look like a drowned sailor; hair matted and plastered to his head; soaked through and through. Bits of leaves, twigs, and other dirt clung to him. Cloud picked out as much as he could while he squelched his way to the fifth floor and Zack’s room. The feel underfoot was wholly unpleasant. He was convinced he could keep a shoal of fish happily alive in his boots at the moment.

Despite his sour mood, Cloud did his polite acknowledgment of the nursing staff he passed by and nodded every time someone made predictable remarks about the weather. He shuffled as quickly and quietly as he could to Zack’s room. This was quite a feat as the rubber of his boots, combined with wetness, squeaked abominably against the linoleum flooring of the hospital halls, until he got to the carpeted sections.

He knocked at Zack’s door, waited, and let himself in, eager to get away from other people and to see Zack again, whom he hadn’t been able to visit since the storm began. Cloud was greeted by a wall of sound. Zack wasn’t in his bed, which confused Cloud. He looked over and saw the man in a wheelchair, rolling backward and forward by the window, even though the curtains were drawn.

“Hey, Zack,” Cloud shouted.

Zack apparently didn’t hear him. He kept rolling, hunched in on himself.

Cloud sloshed over to the tray table, picked up the remote and lowered the volume of the television set. Zack's movement halted, his head snapped in Cloud’s direction, and wild wide eyes stared— _through_ him.

The man looked pale and clammy, even from this distance. “Hey, Zack,” Cloud tried again.

A few blinks and a shake of the head later seemed to refocus Zack. He got out a stilted smile followed by shakey words, “Oh… h-ey, Cloud.”

Something was completely off.

 _“What’s wrong?”—“What happened to you?”_ both men said at the same time.

“I just got a bit wet.” Cloud looked down at himself, dripping where he stood.

“More like completely drowned,” Zack joked, but his laugh had no energy behind it.

“Doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? You look… terrible.” Cloud dumped the sopping, disheveled bouquet on the side table along with the remote and walked toward Zack.

Zack swept his hand through his limp and pooling hair. “I’ve just—no sleep. Where've you been? I've missed you. Feels like forever since I last saw ya."

"I've been sick and there have been no orders to deliver flowers in a while." Cloud came to a standstill before Zack, but Zack started rolling away from him. 

"Feeling okay now?" Zack asked over his shoulder as he headed to the bouquet and picked it up. He frowned and it dripped.

"Yeah. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"Ah."

"What about you?"

"I told you—" Zack snapped—he tacked on a laugh and turned back to the bouquet, putting it on his blanketed lap and went over to the kitchen sink, dropping the flowers in there. “I can’t sleep. My pillow’s too lumpy.” Zack started rolling again—away from Cloud as he approached—like an odd chase of cat and mouse.

It made no sense and Cloud wasn’t buying it. “I know about being tired. You—it’s more than that. You can tell me.” His throat felt tight, his stomach churned as a sickening worry burst to life inside himself.

Zack laughed it off energetically. “I’m fine. Really. I've just not been getting any sleep. My pillow’s too lumpy and the thunder's been keeping me up. I’ll make you a coffee. You should get out of those wet clothes. I’ve got some spare slacks and shirts in the bathroom. Go have a hot shower and get dry.” Zack made his way to the bathroom door, opening it for Cloud.

The hospital was warm, but being soaked through and through was miserable. Zack’s suggestion sounded inviting. But—“Zack—”

 _“Cloud,"_ Zack barked, aggravated, but in the next breath softened with an exhausted sounding, _"Please._ Just go take a shower." He nodded his head to the room.

Zack’s response halted all of Cloud’s thoughts. Something was completely wrong. “I… will— _if_ you tell me what’s bothering you.”

A shaky sigh and some silence followed. “Alright. But _after_ you get dry.”

Cloud hesitated, not wanting to wait that long for an answer, but it didn't seem like Zack was going to let up. “Okay. But you promise. You can’t take it back when I’m done.”

“Promise,” Zack gave a stern nod and made his way back toward Cloud, who stood by the side of the bed, but Zack stopped at the kitchen where he reached for the kettle with a strain.

Cloud knew better than to _baby_ Zack. Plus, he got the feeling he’d get his head bitten off today if he offered to help. Reluctantly, he backed off and walked into the large, access-friendly bathroom, wanting to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. He emptied the small pools in his gumboots down the shower drain, and stripped down, wringing out each article of clothing he peeled it off, and found somewhere to hang them up to _hopefully_ dry.

Despite the summer heat, the soaking he’d received from the rain had sapped him and deposited a chill in his bones. The hot shower spray felt delightful and he lingered, defrosting himself. The noise of the TV could suddenly be heard over the shower and the rumble of weather outside. A sense of alarm went through him. He turned his attention to hurrying up, scrubbing himself vigorously and rinsing his hair. He then quickly got out and hastily dried off with a towel.

He found the aforementioned pile of clothes and picked through the materials; settling on a red, short-sleeved shirt and navy slacks. The idea of wearing these things made Cloud nervous. Wearing other people’s things seemed strange and weird to him, especially being the clothes of someone like Zack, who, despite the muscle wastage, was still heavier set than Cloud could ever hope to be even if he hit the gym. He feared how these clothes would sit on him. Yet he had no choice. At least he didn’t have to free-ball: his underwear had thankfully remained dry enough.

As he got dressed he got a good whiff of Zack’s scent as he pulled the shirt over his head. Cloud might have inhaled a little deeper a second time, just to make sure he wasn't imagining it. He pushed the smile down. Something was terribly wrong, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. Cloud pulled on the slacks, rolled up the bottoms, and tugged the drawstrings as much as he could. He felt like a doll dressed in clothes meant for an actual person. Self-conscious to the hilt, he pulled the shirt up as it slid down his shoulders for the fourth time and took a long hard look at himself in the mirror. He collected himself and focused back on Zack. Cloud wasn’t sure what was wrong, or how he could help, but he wanted to try to get to the bottom of it. He grabbed a smaller towel to dry his hair and, with a deep nervous breath, went back to the living area.

The smell of coffee hit his senses and the sound of the television bombarded him. It wasn’t up to the same volume as before, but it was still loud enough to… _what?_ He lost his train of thought as Zack yelled over the noise—

“Lookin’ good, buddy. Feel better now that you’re less of a drowned rat?”

Cloud felt his skin burn with embarrassment. He thought he looked ridiculous in the too-big-for-him clothes. He pulled the shirt up a little and scrubbed at his hair with the towel. “Yeah. Thanks for these.”

“No worries. Glad they fit… sorta,” Zack chuckled, thin and tight. “Here’s your coffee,” he held out the mug. "One sugar, and a dash of milk, right?"

Cloud nodded and padded over, gratefully taking the mug from Zack. He couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble to the other man’s hand. Zack rolled away. Cloud took a sip of the hot drink which tasted just how he liked it. The strong brew hit the spot, chasing away the last vestiges of the chill. 

“Mm, this is really good. Thanks, Zack.”

Cloud watched Zack carefully as he threw Cloud a tight smile over his shoulder and kept moving around the room, tidying up, and looking at the ferns and various plants around the space. An aura of nervousness hung about Zack.

It unsettled Cloud and if the damn television hadn’t been on so loud the silence would have been very overwhelming. Zack didn’t seem to be forthcoming, so Cloud prompted him with a guilt-laden, “You promised.”

Zack had his back turned but Cloud could still see the effect his words had as Zack’s head drooped and his movements stilled. Cloud kept watching from behind his mug and hung the towel over his shoulder. Zack began moving again, this time toward his bed, where he stopped. He made to hoist himself back on top of it.

Cloud, putting the mug down, headed toward Zack. “Need a hand?”

“No,” Zack barked, freezing Cloud in mid-step. “Sorry,” he eased off. “Maybe… just hold the chair steady for me?”

Cloud nodded and did as he was asked, though with a wariness akin to what someone might feel when approaching a visibly distressed, but entirely unfamiliar dog.

Zack pulled the small blanket off and lifted himself. His arms shook with the strain of his movements. Cloud resisted the urge to help. Zack did make it after a calculated maneuver of swinging his weight around. He scooched toward the pillows, dragging his bulky and lifeless legs along and threw the beds thin blankets on top of himself. 

Cloud moved the wheelchair out of the way and to turn the television down once more.

“Leave it,” came Zack’s exhausted words.

“Why? What’s—” and then something clicked. He caught a minuscule flinch in Zack’s face as a flash of light danced across drawn curtains. Loud rumbling sounded in accompaniment of the lightning. “Are you trying to drown out the storm?” he asked, carefully. 

“No. Don’t be stupid. Come sit down and let’s watch something.” Zack started biting at his nails and flicked through the programming.

Cloud didn’t know how much would be _too much_ pushing. He didn’t want to be a nag, but experience told him he needed to be persistent if it was what he thought it was. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You can tell me. You can… trust me.” He had never signed up to be a confidant for anyone, but he was willing to lend an ear to Zack.

Weary blue eyes turned up to look at Cloud and scrutinized him. Cloud felt properly examined, and it was so weird coming from Zack; the guy who told him all kinds of silly and ridiculous things without even having to be prompted once. Clearly, Cloud didn’t know him as well as he thought.

Zack’s mouth drifted open. His chest rose sharply as he inhaled a deep breath. A knock at the door made both sets of eyes dart and Zack let out a hasty utterance of, “Please don't say anything."

Both men looked toward the door as nurse Bernice waltzed through, carrying a small tray and a flip chart.

“Good evening my wonderful starshine,” Zack sang with surprising energy and quickly turned the television off.

“Fair, Strife,” she acknowledged with great disinterest. “You know the drill. Blanket off, shirt up,” she said without looking up from the tray she carried. 

Zack began to move with hesitation. Eyes gave a nervous dart toward Cloud.

“Before my shift ends, Fair,” the nurse bit.

Once again Cloud got the sneaking suspicion that his presence was unwelcomed. “I’ll, uh… go.” He stood up.

Zack’s hand darted out but refrained from touching Cloud. “No. We… haven’t finished talking yet.”

Relief swirled. Cloud worried that he was pushing too hard, but apparently, Zack was willing to chat after all… when the coast was clear. 

Thunder clapped. Zack's hand flinched and trembled minutely. Cloud really couldn’t leave. “I’ll—” He looked around for something to do. Zack was uncomfortable with him being there, but also didn’t want him to go, so Cloud thought he just needed to get a bit of distance to maybe make things better. Eyes fell on the coffee machine. “Finish my drink and wash up.”

He walked away with purpose, keeping his back turned whilst slowly drinking what was left of his coffee, while he continuing to rub at his hair with the towel, and repeatedly pulled the shirt up to sit on his shoulders. Cloud listened to the conversation which unfolded behind him—

“Did you have a good shift?” Zack was always very personable.

There was some clattering and sound of fabric shifting.

“Same as always. Looking forward to being at home. I’m going to have to change that gauze.”

“Wouldn't you want to stay here with me instead? You'll get soaked if you go out there,” came the smooth charm. Cloud could practically picture the smile.

“I will risk a bit of rain.”

“That's our Bernie, tough as nails.” A cheerful laugh sounded.

Bernice was all business, though, and ran through her checklist, “Are you experiencing any pain?”

“Not more than usual.”

Cloud marveled at how well Zack held together. Bernice was like a hawk when it came to noticing things being off on most days. It was surprising that Zack could keep up the pretense.

“I'll change your other bandages tomorrow. They seem clean enough. Has the itching reduced?”

“Mhmm. I think that cream's really helping.”

There was some silence and some rusting of papers. Cloud, having finished his drink, put aside the towel, and spent some time meticulously washing up the mug.

“It says here that you'll be having a meeting with your head doctor and surgeon tomorrow. Your OT will also come around.” Bernice kept talking about Zack’s schedule, but Cloud didn’t hear.

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t even know what was _wrong_ with Zack. All this time spent together and never had he asked about the man’s healing process. He admonished himself for that.

“Busy day, just how I like it,” Zack’s voice cut through the buzz in Cloud’s head.

“I can make it even busier for you if you’d like. Do you want or need to speak with your psychologist?”

Zack gave a voluminous laugh, which sounded nervous to Cloud. He tried _really_ hard to will himself invisible.

“No. I'm feeling pretty great actually,” Zack finally said, the lie as smooth as silk.

There came a knock on the door.

“Come on in, Francis,” Bernice instructed the trim, tall man in his mid-forties, with a clean-cut look to himself. Cloud recognized him as the man who delivered Zack’s regular evening meal. They had only ever met passing in the corridors.

“Hello, Zack! I see you have many guests this evening. Hello, Mrs. Clarke. Hello… ah—”

“Franc, that’s my friend, Cloud.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Francis.

Cloud gave a polite nod, all the while still wondering how Zack had so quickly been able to thrust that label onto him. It baffled him some days—completely threw him, if he were honest with himself—how he also considered Zack a friend in spite of all the awkward moments of the past: the betrayal and the constant military associations…. Friends weren’t something that came easily to him, but here he was, with Zack, not at all affronted over being labeled the way he was.

“He’s the one delivering all the flowers,” Zack grinned.

“Ah, I have you to thank for no space for meals.”

Cloud shrugged. “Just the delivery guy.”

Bernice looked up from where she scrawled on her clipboard. “I’m done here. See you in the morning, Zack. Have a good night, Frances.”

“Night Bernie.” Zack adjusted his loose-fitting sea-green shirt and pulled the blankets up to his mid-chest.

“Night,” Cloud quietly acknowledged the nurse as she walked out with a slight nod toward him.

“What deliciousness have you brought for me today?” Zack eyed the aluminum containers on the tray Francis set out for him.

“Roast beef, vegetables, and an extra helping of pudding. But just for you, so shhh.” The man pressed a finger to his lips, and Zack mimicked the gesture.

“Thanks, Franc. I’m not that hungry right now. Is it okay if I get the tray picked up tomorrow morning?” 

“Okay. But just for you.”

Both men put fingers to lips and smiled at each other.

With the room finally clear again, Cloud approached Zack.

“You want it? I feel bad for not eating it.” Zack pointed at the tray of food.

Cloud shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“No. C’mon. At least eat the pudding. I’ve got two of those.” Zack lifted the lid on his tray.

The pudding _did_ look enticing. “Fine,” Cloud relented and sat back down in his chair.

Zack dimmed the lights of his room a little with a remote, to make their surroundings less garish, and they ate in silence while watching the television at a more manageable decibel level. The apocalyptic deluge still raged on outside and Cloud wordlessly noted Zack flinching at every roll of thunder and watched him space out a little here and there, if the spoon held up halfway to his mouth and just staying frozen there meant anything.

Cloud’s worry kept piling higher and higher. He couldn’t even taste the food anymore with how sick he felt. 

Eventually, they were finished with their meals though and Cloud turned off the television. He moved the remote out of reach and squared off with Zack.

Zack balked. “Hey!”

“You asked me to stay so we could talk. I think we should talk.”

Eyes darted, a lopsided grin grew. “So this weather's a bit wild. Kinda a bummer that we can't go to the roof, but at least the plants are getting a good drink.”

“Zack—”

Zack laughed loudly, cutting Cloud off. “I'm perfectly fine. Just tired. My medication got changed so my body's all—” Zack made a loud, nonsensical high-pitched sound, and threw his hands up in the air in a wild gesture. He giggled when he was done.

Cloud remained stone-faced and silent.

Zack's laughter died away gradually when he noticed Cloud not having a bar of it. And then, in a dead-serious tone, with a slight edge to it, he said, “I'm fine.”

Cloud knew now. He was sure of it. He had seen it before. But he felt too angry to care at this very moment. “You promised,” he wrinkled his nose with disgust.

“I've kept my promise,” came the retaliating glare.

Cloud launched to his feet. “Goodbye, Zack.” He refused to be in the same room as the other man, feeling it a complete waste of time. So he made for the door. He didn't even care that he didn't have his gumboots on. Cloud decided that he’d rather drive home barefoot and pick up his clothes at a later date.

Zack remained silent, which made Cloud’s resolve harden. He stomped away, but as he reached the door, and a tremendous thunderclap nearly shattered eardrums and shook the walls, the other-worldly cry, and subsequent whimper halted Cloud. He spun around to see Zack curled in on himself, with his hands thrown over his head.

Cloud’s heart just about leapt out of his throat. For a brief moment the ambient sound of the room drowned out, and all Cloud heard was ringing in his ears. He swallowed down the panic and took tentative steps toward the bed.

“Please— _stay,”_ came Zack’s brittle begging whimper.

The sound broke Cloud. He knew he could easily lord this over Zack; lecture him about how wrong he was, and how right Cloud was, but… seeing him, panting heavily with fresh sweat beading down his brows, and his face as pale as a sheet caused the insides of Cloud’s body to twist and manifest in physical pain.

He closed the distance, hopped on the bed, and scooped Zack up in his arms, giving him the biggest hug he could muster.

Zack felt like a hard lump of sinewy tension under Cloud’s touch. He could feel the way Zack shook like a leaf, but he also felt the steely limbs move and shift; arms wound around Cloud’s sides and back. The man nuzzled into the crook of Cloud’s neck and breathed with a rattle. Another roll of thunder crashed. A high-pitched squeak left Zack and his fingers clawed into Cloud’s skin, but Cloud didn’t flinch. He continued to hold and cocoon Zack for however long it took for the shaking to stop, for the breathing to even out, and for Zack’s quiet tears to stop trickling down Cloud’s neck.

When that point finally came they wordlessly shifted. Cloud rolled over, taking Zack with him so they were both lying on their sides facing each other. Zack maintained his tight grip around Cloud, holding him—what felt like—for dear life. He pressed his forehead against Cloud’s chest and whimpering, incoherent words came out, swallowed up by faint gasps and sobs. 

Cloud held on and rubbed his fingers through dark hair and lightly scratched Zack’s scalp. The boisterous, cock-sure military man was gone, leaving a terrified mess in Cloud’s arms. Either via osmosis or simply from witnessing the complete change in Zack, Cloud also felt terrified—helpless even—and on the verge of tears. He hugged Zack all the harder and murmured, “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. You’re fine, you’re here. You’re here with me. You’re gonna be okay.” 

He continued his mantra and rubbed Zack reassuringly until there were no more small sounds of fear out of Zack, but only the even, deep breaths of slumber that took him. At last, Cloud felt okay enough to dip into the heavy fatigue that had been clawing at him this entire time. His world became soft, unfocused, and eventually, he blacked out completely.

* * *

Cloud slowly woke, feeling comfortable and warm, despite something weighing on his head. He eased his eyes open. The world came into soft focus, and brief disorientation woke him the rest of the way. He saw green fabric and felt the slight course material against his cheek. He felt himself rising and falling with the gentle breathing of the torso he rested against.

He took in his dimly-lit surroundings and suddenly realized where he was and whose body he was pressed against. Instant embarrassment welled inside. Cloud moved carefully—stiffly. Zack’s head was pillowed against his hair. He didn’t want to wake him.

Somehow, Cloud managed to untangle himself from Zack and the sheets without disturbing the other man. He sat at the edge of the hospital bed, holding his head, detesting the familiar dizzy feeling spinning the room around. It passed quickly enough and he looked at his watch: a quarter to three in the morning. _Shit._ Cloud really needed to get going. Tifa would be furious at him clocking out at this time, so he’d just drive the van home and go back into the office later in the day to explain the situation… whatever the situation even was.

He stilled a moment before slipping off the bed and cast a glance behind himself. Zack… was deeply unwell. The pained cries, the terror he had displayed… it hurt Cloud to think about. He needed to get home. There was nothing he could do for Zack right now—or _ever_ , if the man didn’t start opening up about his issues. Cloud was loath to leave, but he also didn’t want to stay.

As his feet hit the carpeted floor it dawned on him that he was barefoot… and all his clothes were still in the bathroom. He pulled up the shirt which kept slipping down his shoulder and headed for the bathroom. He opened and closed the door as quietly as possible before switching the light on. He leaned heavily against the door for a few moments, letting the situation sink in; he had been so angry with Zack, and then upset, and then comfortably drowsy, which brought him to right now; feeling surprisingly well-rested, everything considered.

Cloud sighed and shook his head. He went to gather up his still-damp clothes, bundled them all up and tucked them under his arm. Slipping on his gumboots he switched off the light and opened the door as quietly as he could.

He was halfway to the door leading out into the hospital when a tired murmur sounded from the side—

“Cloud. You goin’?”

Cloud turned around to see Zack raising himself and rubbing at his eyes. He looked kind of adorable. Cloud’s body buzzed with concern though. He was annoyed at himself for having woken Zack up. “Yeah. Are you gonna be okay?”

Zack turned his head and they listened to the quiet of the night.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Thanks for being here with me.”

Cloud gave a minute smile, feeling far from content. “You can trust me to keep your secrets safe,” he offered in a last-ditch effort to break through the surprising dense defense of the other man.

A stilted, “Mmm,” rumbled out of Zack and he nodded once more as he sunk back down against the sheets.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Thanks, Cloud.” Zack dismissed him with a wave.

Cloud slipped out of the hospital into the stifling humidity. Even at this time of night—after a storm had blown through—there was still no relief in sight. For a second, Cloud contemplated going back to Zack’s room and camping out there. The man had been very comfortable after all, despite the situation having been awkward. 

The smile which flourished evaporated as thoughts returned to all that had happened. Again a deep sense of sickening dread overcame him. A familiar loneliness tugged at his chest. It hurt to think about Zack living with whatever he was going through and having no one to turn to. Cloud hoped Zack _had_ someone though. Surely he _must_. The man must have a million friends after all. But he had to stop himself there because that attitude—that Zack was happy go-lucky and had a wealth of confidants in his life—was what probably had stopped him from noticing the misery Zack was living in. For surely it _was_ misery… and had always been there. A quick expression, a dismissal and avoidance of subjects; things like that… it seemed so obvious now. _Too_ obvious. 

Through all his ruminations Cloud steadily made his way to his van, maybe even hastily so, if he could be objective about it. He wanted to get out of there, away from the bad feelings and chastising thoughts. He had been so slow to realize. He, of all people, should have picked up on Zack’s pain instantly. He was miserable enough on most days of the week to consider himself an expert in that field.

As Cloud hopped into his van, he hoped Zack would be all right. He stared at the hospital for a while longer. There was a faint feeling of not wanting to leave: of wanting to come back ASAP: of wanting to shake sense into Zack so he'd spill the beans. With a sour frown settling on his face, Cloud started the engine and made for home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter - [Believe by Mumford and Sons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dW6SkvErFEE).
> 
> Look, it was a literal storm that happened. 😄 Zack won't be able to avoid Cloud for long! 
> 
> I find it interesting that a few of you are calling this a 'slow-burn'. It never occurred to me. I just see this as 'normal Cloud-speed' for a relationship to develop. LMAO! But perhaps you guys are right. Maybe I'll add it as a tag at some point 😁
> 
> Thank you all for the continued support and engagement with the story and myself. Ahhhhh! I'm glad people like it and are keen for more 🤗❤️


	7. Inside Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud visits Zack and soon realises he'll have to lead by example if he hopes for Zack to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in! A whole host of warnings coming your way -  
> Chapter length! This is a long chapter (over 12k) so you might want to set aside some time to read this.  
> Mental health issues: PTSD, depression, death wish, survivors guilt.  
> Limb loss, medical conditions, mild mentions of dismemberment, body dysphoria/shame.  
> Cloud being too dense to see when he's got a good thing going and when someone's flirting with him.  
> A whole lot of Hurt/Comfort.
> 
> This chapter gave me a lot of feelings. Maybe it will for you too.
> 
> Enjoy 😖

The following day, Cloud’s mind was at the hospital even as he drove to get himself to work. He’d had poor, broken sleep once he'd arrived home. The storm had returned early in the morning and at every thunderclap his anxiety had, and _still_ did flare. One word flashed through his chest every time: _Zack._

As Cloud got the delivery van back to work he decided then and there that he couldn’t go through with it: he couldn’t do his shift.

He wove his way through the obstacle of buckets collecting rainwater from holes in the roof as he made his way to the front desk of his place of employment. “Tifa, I’m taking the day off,” he announced as he handed her yesterday’s invoices.

“Why? Is everything alright? When did you finish work last night? You took the van home.” Worry sat in her voice and she rose to her feet.

Cloud bit back voicing the concern in his chest. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I didn’t want to get soaked going home, so I took the van.”

“Oh.”

He could see the unwavering worry in her eyes and so continued, “I’ve also had lousy sleep. I need to catch up. I’ll be okay.”

She looked him over and gave a small nod. “Take all the time you need. This weather’s been awful. I keep finding a new leak every couple of hours." She let out a distasteful huff and eyed the ceiling for a second. "Keep in touch though, okay? Or I will make it my business to worry about you.”

He nodded and left, getting on his bike which he’d left in the garage. But he wasn't heading home, though his body longed for sleep. He needed to see Zack.

It felt good to speedily weave around the traffic jams but Cloud's mind didn't linger on his freedom—the unspoken things from yesterday unsettled him. Zack had major issues and he didn't seem willing or wanting to face them. Cloud hated that. Truly. He had enough second-hand experience of what Zack was going through to know the man needed to deal with it and the sooner the better. 

Who really knew how deeply it affected Zack? How long he'd been silently dealing with this…. That thought made Cloud's eyes sting a little and he pushed his bike harder over the slick roads.

He arrived, parked his bike, secured his helmet, and hurried inside. He gave his usual curt nods to those who expected it, and ignored any and all remarks about him coming in empty-handed. Cloud was too busy pondering what he would say to Zack to worry about the implication of being here without a delivery.

He knocked on the door, waited a fraction of a second and then went inside. Cloud was greeted by several turning heads.

“Oh, hey, Cloud! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Zack smiled, bright and alert as he peered through the small group that surrounded him.

“I’ll come back later.” Cloud made to leave.

“No, no, please stay,” a woman invited, waving him over.

Cloud eyeballed Zack, who nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, stay. This is Antonia Burr, Barret Wallace, and Trudy Alcott.” He gestured to each of the rather-fit looking individuals in turn, “They’re part of my squad.”

“Oh, so all of you were—” Intrigued, Cloud shut the door and went deeper into the room.

“Yeah. Zack saved us,” Antonia, a tall woman with long brunette hair tied in a ponytail, said with a smile.

The other, stockier woman with blond curls, strode over, grabbed Cloud, and pulled him toward the kitchenette area. “Here, have a cupcake. I’ve been slaving over these for too many hours and no way am I not getting everyone I meetto eat them.”

Cloud looked at the box containing red frosted cupcakes with sprinkles and red sticks attractively decorating the top. “Twizzlers?”

“Yeah. Zack’s favorite,” she beamed.

“They’re really good. Have one, and bring me another one,” Zack ordered cheerfully.

“Yes, Sir,” Trudy barked, and grabbed one for Zack, taking it over to him.

Cloud picked one up too. He watched as Zack held his aloft, toward him. Cloud raised his as well and they silently toasted each other from afar. 

Feeling a mixture of unease and relief, Cloud hid his confusion by biting into the rather delicious, if not a little bit _too sweet,_ baked treat. Not wanting to get involved in whatever discussion the group was having, Cloud opted to stay by the cabinets and made himself a drink. “Anyone else want coffee?”

There were two yes’s, and one request for a hot chocolate, so Cloud was kept busy for a while, making the drinks and then handing them out.

He listened to the discussion the squadmates shared. There were a lot of names dropped, a lot of in-jokes, and a lot of banter about their personal lives.

Cloud listened out for things pertaining to Zack’s life and he kept a careful eye on the man over the top of his coffee mug which he nursed, especially every time the thunder rumbled: sometimes abysmally loud, sometimes soft. Now that Cloud was aware of the trouble, he could see through the pretense; smiles were forced, laughter extra loud, but hollow. And it was more than just that; the bags under the man’s eyes looked heavy; the strained twitch of the plastered-on smile was clear as day now and Cloud hurt over witnessing it. Despite the ill feeling, he was also rather impressed that Zack could keep the charade up through sheer strength of will.

The man also seemed to deflect when the conversation turned to him, especially in relation to _that fatal day_. Zack received praise. The three squadmates talked about Zack’s heroics from what they could recall. Zack kept downplaying his actions with, “I was just doing my job,” and he changed—or at least _attempted to_ —change the subject multiple times: asking his guests about their lives, their plans, their recovery, particularly Barret, who’d experienced a limb-loss of his right arm, just below the elbow, due to what had happened out there on the field.

At least Cloud felt better knowing he wasn’t the only one being blown off whenever he tried to talk to Zack about stuff relating to past events. But this insight also grew his resolve to get something of substance out of the other man. He patiently waited for the time when they would be alone.

This time didn’t come too quickly. The three guests seemed very comfortable, sitting on the hospital bed and guest chair. Even with Zack's hollow laugh, the scene that played out still felt like they were a family, like there was genuine comradery between them all. It reminded Cloud of what he'd never have, but he could also appreciate that it was something Zack deserved and had probably desperately missed. An indescribable feeling grew in the pit of Cloud's stomach until Barret distracted him from thinking too deeply because the man began traversing down memory lane: sharing many anecdotes about Zack from their various missions and campaigns together.

Barret recited a list of things Zack had done, some of which centered around running their training course naked on a dare, drinking new recruits under the table, and challenging absolutely anyone and everyone to squatting competitions, absolutely anywhere. It was apparently one of Zack’s favorite activities, and the other two guests chimed in with their own memories of where they had caught Zack doing squats.

It left everyone in the room in stitches, Cloud included. He felt happy seeing Zack wearing a big smile and looking alive with good cheer. The stories Cloud was privy to somehow created a fuller picture of the man he’d been watching waste away in the hospital for close to half a year. 

Sadness ruffled Cloud even as he laughed. He couldn't keep his thoughts away from delving into the reality of Zack's existence: the man being stuck here and the once vibrant-sounding life stifled, if not completely extinguished. Yet at the same time, Cloud also felt glad to have gotten the opportunity to meet Zack, even if it had been under such unfortunate circumstances. Was that a selfish thought to have? 

He wasn't completely cruel though. He hoped Zack would get back to his former life soon. He wanted to keep seeing that big smile on Zack's face because this one, right now, felt genuine and real. 

The raucous laughter died down. Barret wiped at his eyes and the mood sobered for everyone with the words, “Of all the dumb shit you’ve ever done in your life, this was totally the dumbest, but we wouldn't be here without you, so thank you.” 

Trudy and Antonia echoed the sentiment and they all went in for a group hug.

Cloud felt awkward. He crept back a little, back to the kitchen counter with his mug; a fly on the wall, uncomfortable over being an intruder on this very personal moment between four people who had shared a tragedy.

Zack comforted the three who were on top of him; hugging them, murmuring comforting, yet indistinct things to them, and rubbing their backs, while sniffles sounded. 

Cloud spotted a box of tissues on the counter and walked it over to the bed. Zack looked up at him, a soft smile encased in an otherwise tearful expression. Cloud handed the box to the other man, his heart breaking in the process. This was another facet of Zack Fair; the leader, the corporal—now promoted to Sergeant. The man who would, and _had_ done absolutely everything in his power to keep others safe.

“Now c’mon you guys. Don’t fall apart on me. We’re all here. We’re all doing fine.” Zack continued to soothe his comrades, doling out tissues and comfort while Cloud slunk back to the kitchen counters. 

A feeling welled inside of Cloud… something akin to… _envy?_ at seeing Zack shower so much care and attention onto his squad members. He marveled at how affectionate Zack was with people _under_ him. Resentment bubbled up. His thoughts went to an uncomfortable place in his head. Injustice, unfairness, a sense of having been given the raw end of the deal—Cloud shook himself free of the welling upset. There was no use in ruminating over such things, especially when faced with so much compassion and sadness in the room.

The tears eventually abated as everyone was pepped up enough to leave without a drop of moisture clinging to anyone’s eyes. They apologized to Zack and Cloud for the breakdown.

“Happens to everybody,” Zack said gently, shared some more hugs.

Cloud marveled at how soft and kind Zack could be to others but apparently viewed himself in a completely different, and far harsher light. ' _Hypocrite'_ raced through Cloud's mind, but not with malice, but rather cocooned in a soft envelope of sympathy. 

It wasn't too much longer after the guests said their final, long-winded goodbyes, that Cloud was left alone with Zack. 

Zack sighed. A brief lull and peace descended and then he crumpled with another, heavier exhale of breath, as the mask he'd been wearing finally fell away.

Cloud looked on, brows furrowed in sympathy and concern. “How’re you holding up?” he asked.

Zack’s crestfallen expression lifted and that awful fake smile beamed at Cloud. “Hey, buddy! Yeah. I’m good. It was great to see them again. Sorry you saw the waterworks. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Cloud huffed, amazed at how Zack only ever seemed to think of other people. “It was fine. I hope they’ll be okay and that me being here didn’t make _them_ uncomfortable.”

“Nah, you couldn’t make anyone uncomfortable,” Zack smiled up in a way that caused flutters to stir inside of Cloud, even if he didn’t believe one syllable out of Zack’s mouth. The man continued, “I think they’ll be fine. It’s all still a bit of a shock. It's gonna take time to process.”

“How’re you processing it?” Cloud pushed.

Zack huffed with a small laugh. “You’re always straight to the point, huh? No mincing your words,” he chuckled.

Cloud shook his head. “Not when it comes to serious matters. So how are you?” he pressed again.

“I’m okay, really. It was good seeing them again—bit shocking too," Zack muttered and frowned for a second but then looked up at Cloud with a renewed smile, "So what’re you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you and… well, there’s no flowers. Everything alright?”

There was squad leader Zack Fair again, checking in with the troops.

“I’m not here for work. I came to check on you. There’s storms forecast for the next few days, and given what happened yesterday…" he shrugged, "I thought you could use some company.”

“Aww, Cloud. C’mere.” Zack's brows knit together in a deep show of emotion. He stretched out his arms and gave a teeth-baring grin.

Another flutter stirred. Cloud actually desired a hug. Not wanting to let on, he slowly walked over and held himself back from flinging his arms around Zack, lest he look too eager as he bent down. He took a measured and casual approach, snaking his arms around Zack's sides and back.

Zack, on the other hand, slapped his arms around Cloud the instant Cloud was in reach, and held him tight. 

Cloud buried his smile in the crook of Zack's neck savoring the contact for a moment before he quietly spoke against Zack’s hair, “It’s alright now. You don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to be the strong leader around me.”

There was a deep exhale and a tightening of Zack’s grip. Cloud felt like he was being held on to for dear life, which made him squeeze Zack back, hopefully conveying reassurance.

Cloud pulled away first and saw Zack still wearing a smile, but far less garish. Cloud went around the other side of the bed and sat in the chair. The silence between them felt heavy. Cloud hated what the situation was doing to Zack, and the strain it seemed to place between them.

“Do you wanna watch something?” Zack asked, sounding more like a plea than a mild inquiry.

Cloud grew aware of the rain outside prattling harder against the window. It seemed to grow dark outside, despite it still being early in the afternoon. Cloud also noted the way Zack's knuckles turned white as he clutched the remote control.

He told himself they would definitely talk about this before he left for the day, but first, he needed the other man to relax. “Sure,” he said, and settled into the guest chair, anticipating a bit of a long afternoon.

* * *

They watched—in the loosest term possible—a serial about God only knew what. Cloud wasn't paying attention in the least bit. His every sense, bar his sight, was trained on Zack. Cloud was certain that Zack wasn't taking any of the programming in either.

After some time, Cloud had enough. He made for the remote and switched off the television.

 _“Hey,”_ came the complaint.

“Zack.”

“Cloud?”

“We need to talk.”

“How amazing were Trudy’s cupcakes? She left me some in the bar fridge, didn’t she?”

_“Zack!”_

“What?”

Cloud let out a grumbling huff. “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Deflect.”

“I'm not deflecting.”

“Save it. You are. You change the subject or dismiss things. You avoid.”

Thankfully, instead of _deflecting completely_ to something else, Zack said, “I'm fine, really.”

Even though it was _clearly_ a lie, it was still better than Zack talking about cupcakes, or television programming, or whatever latest journey Zack’s aunt was on—though that last one _did_ interest Cloud a lot of the time. “You always say you’re fine. You always play the soldier, or hero, or leader. You pretend to be the guy who nothing ever touches. You don't have to be positive all the time, y’know.”

Zack scoffed. “This is who I am. I'm a happy guy,” he said while wearing a smarmy grin. “Things don’t affect me.”

That was the fattest lie Cloud had heard all day. “Maybe that’s what you tell yourself and what you show everyone else, but Zack… it's not working. The more you keep it up the weaker you become. You look exhausted. You’re snappy. I might not have known you _before_ all this happened, but somehow I don’t think that how you are _now_ is who you were. And if you keep hiding behind that smile—”

“I'm _not_ hiding!”—Cloud jumped with a start as Zack lurched at him. —“This is the real, authentic me!” Zack thumped his chest, a snarl curling his lips. “This is how I get through life, with a smile and good cheer!” Zack wore the face of someone cheerful but spoke through grit teeth.

Cloud frowned. “Then why’re you yelling?”

Zack's scowl gave way to surprise and then confusion. He noticed his lean and plopped back against his pillows with a blow of air out of his nose.

“You don't even notice what you were doing. And that's not on you. That's… well, that's the PTSD,” Cloud’s voice dropped. “That's what it does to people. It ruins and changes them, and we _really_ should talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Zack snapped.

“Zack—”

“No. Why do _I_ have to talk? I never push _you_ to talk about your family and the beef you’ve got with the military. I think the double standard’s pretty bullshit,” he retorted with a harsh edge to his voice.

Cloud felt his defenses coming up, but he refused to get roped into that topic of conversation. “The _beef_ I have isn’t destroying my life. What you’ve got though—”

“What _I_ have? It’s _nothing._ I’m _fine_ ,” Zack fired back, his lip curled and nose wrinkled.

Cloud looked at him with a pointed cock of his eyebrow. " _Really_ now? You might be able to fool Bernice and your family and your squad, but you don't fool me."

“What makes you such a damn expert?” Zack bit back with gruff agitation.

Even though he could completely relate to Zack being on guard and defensive, he also didn't like it in the least bit. He tried to cool his own fiery and sparking temper by taking a deep breath and hoped to get some conversation going without it feeling like he was attacking Zack, “I know people who’ve been through this. I know the importance of _not_ avoiding it,” he tried to sound as even-keeled as possible.

Zack settled a little. He reclined once more in his bed and idly stared at his legs. “I'm happy to keep avoiding it,” he muttered.

“You're not really though, are you,” Cloud carefully reached for Zack's trembling hand. 

Zack jumped and flinched as Cloud came in contact with him. Cloud held him firm and gently squeezed. The touch seemed to melt some of Zack's resolve at the silent treatment because he muttered, “I’m sorry. I don't know what to do about this.”

“Talk to a professional. You have a psychologist, use them.”

“I can't,” Zack snapped, pulling his hand away.

“Why not?”

“If I do, it goes on my permanent record.”

“So?”

“Unlike you, I actually _like_ the military. I _like_ my job. If they _find out_ it will put my job and everything I've ever worked for at risk,” Zack croaked, his voice rising ever louder. “But what’s the point trying to explain that to _you._ You don’t fucking _care!”_

Cloud clenched his jaw and swallowed down his flashing anger. He couldn’t take this personally. Zack was sick. “Of course I care. I’m trying to help you. And I’m telling you, you won't be able to go back _at all_ if you aren't right in the head.” He said it too rough, with too much heat, despite having tried to cool it.

Zack growled and with a huff rolled onto his side with some effort, turning his back on Cloud.

Cloud cursed himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

But Zack said nothing. He merely stewed in his own irritation.

Cloud stared at Zack's back for a while. He fought against the continued anger simmering inside. Zack was being so stubborn. He was being a complete idiot. Cloud wanted to leave. He looked at the door, and back at Zack.

The thought of walking out kept playing through his skull. He followed the visualization through to its natural conclusion: him lying awake all night, looking up at his own ceiling and thinking about Zack, especially as the inevitable lightning would flash and thunder would rumble. His pride would stop him from returning to the hospital and he'd have to face Tifa because she'd _somehow_ get involved.

To be honest, the thought of dealing with Tifa seemed easier than the idea of leaving a broken man behind. Cloud sighed. “You win,” he announced, heavily.

Zack looked over at Cloud slightly. “Win what?”

“I'm gonna hold myself to the same standard that I expect from you.” Cloud got up and sat on the bed, shoving Zack aside as he lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling, with his fingers interlaced and resting on his chest. If he was going to do a lot of staring anyway, he figured he might as well do it there, at Zack's side.

Zack kept his back turned, but his neck twisted to look at Cloud over his shoulder, expectantly.

Cloud mulled his thoughts over in his head. Was he really about to do this? He hated being held up as an example for how to act or for what was acceptable behavior. He wanted to nix Zack's excuses. With a deep breath, he began, “You know, I consider myself a very private person. So the fact that a lot of people know my shit because of who my mom is, is super annoying.”

Zack leaned back, turning a little toward Cloud. “So General Strife is—”

“Yeah. It's no coincidence. She's my mom. And Lieutenant Strife2 is my father. Everyone in my family and extended family serves in some capacity. Always have. From my great, great, great grandfather, to my brother's wife and all of her brothers and sisters. I have second cousins somewhere in the intelligence bureau, cousins who oversee development planning stuff. My grandparents met at the R and D division. It’s just what my family does. It’s part of my family's DNA.”

Zack rolled himself over, shuffled to get comfortable, and looked at Cloud. “But you don’t.”

He shook his head, keeping his stare firmly on the ceiling. “I don’t. Which is why I avoid talking about this stuff. It makes me uncomfortable. I’m constantly judged by everyone in and outside of the family. Each year we have a massive family get-together for Christmas, and I'm always the odd one out. Even amongst my nieces and nephews. They’ll all go on to do great things for their country, it's a given. But me; I literally bring shame to the family. I swear they’d love to disown me.”

“No way! There’s nothing wrong with what you do for a living,” Zack said emphatically, his voice very close to Cloud’s ear.

It was nice to hear someone like Zack say that to him. “I don’t think so either. But it does bother a lot of other people. Especially people I can’t avoid.”

“I think it’s brave that you choose to do something else.”

“Brave?” Cloud cocked an eyebrow and turned his head slightly to see Zack right _there—_ Cloud drew back a fraction, needing space.

“Yeah,” Zack said with conviction so grave that his face scrunched up with a frown.

“No. What you did was brave. You made an impossibly difficult choice. Me? I had no choice.”

Zack's displeasure turned into confusion. “Waddaya mean, ‘no choice?'”

Cloud returned his gaze onto the ceiling. The heavy feeling in his chest grew larger. A dreadful weariness tugged at his eyelids and his body buzzed with sheer discomfort. He let out a drawn-out breath. “You know, growing up I always wanted to be like everyone else in my family. I dreamed of camping out in the wild, going on missions, finding bad guys to shoot, and protecting those most important to me. It’s why I built those shelters.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I always wanted to follow in my family's footsteps. I went to all the military schools, I did all the training to get ready for my turn to be a man, grow up, and to be a part of my family like everyone expected of me and like I expected of myself." Cloud’s brows furrowed as he remembered all his hopes for his own future.

Cloud's voice stuck in his throat for a moment. He swallowed down the lump. "All those years spent physically and mentally getting ready and then, when I was finally old enough to join the real thing, instead of just playing pretend, I…” He felt a sea of sick coming up. He forced out the rest of his sentence, “couldn't meet the physical demands." Distaste at his own weakness, failures, and shortcomings curled his lips. No matter how long ago, no matter how 'at peace' he had become with his lot in life, it still burned him up inside when he had to stop and _really_ think about it. 

He breathed out the discontent and applied his mantra of self-forgiveness. "I thought I wasn't trying hard enough, because that's what everyone was telling me. I was called lazy because I couldn't get up in the morning. I physically couldn't, but I tried anyway.” Cloud’s life flashed through his head. Images, situations… _people_. A flash of silver. As calm and objective as he tried to be a tremendous sense of failure still breezed through him. He frowned deeper. “Every day I had no energy. I was told to eat more, go to bed earlier, to stop making excuses, and to toughen up. And I tried, because everything was in my head and I just needed to snap out of it, right?” Cloud rubbed at his face. He felt physically exhausted thinking back on all those years spent trying his hardest yet never being _good enough._ “I tried to be what everyone, including myself, wanted me to be. Long story short, in the end, after many tests and too many doctor and specialist visits, I was diagnosed with adrenal fatigue.”

“What's that?” Zack said quietly.

Cloud’s gaze darted toward Zack, who looked on with worry. He went back to staring at the ceiling. “My body doesn't produce enough cortisol, which is just a fancy way of saying I'm always feeling run-down and tired.”

“Oh… is that the reason for all the coffees?”

“Mm.” Cloud nodded slightly. “I know coffee's the worst way to manage it, but when I’m run off my feet even before I wake up for the day… well, looking after myself is one of the last things on my to-do list.”

“Oh, buddy. _No._ I’m really sorry to hear that.” Zack’s tone carried with it a lot of care.

Cloud smiled. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve come to learn to live with my life being what it is.”

“Oh. Okay. I still feel sad for you though. You wanted to be able to do what everyone in your family does. It was important to you, yeah? You had to give up on your dreams because your body failed you. That—” Zack looked forlorn. “Well, that really sucks, man.”

Cloud’s smile grew bigger over the concern Zack showed him, even as a deep-rooted hurt stung in his chest. “I wouldn’t exactly say that my body’s _failing_ me. More like… I am how I am and I have to learn to live within some parameters.”

Zack exhaled into a smile. “That’s a nice way of looking at it.”

“Mm.”

They stayed silent, listening to the heavy prattle of the rain outside, and the roar of the wind as it blew through the trees in the courtyard. Cloud noted that Zack seemed a lot calmer. At the very least he wasn’t trembling anymore.

“Bet it was nice to finally have an answer as to what was going on for you,” Zack piped up.

“Yeah. It is and it isn't. I find it comforting because knowing what's wrong gives me a plan on how to deal with my situation.” Cloud hoped Zack was taking something meaningful out of his story. He didn’t like sharing this stuff with anyone, but Zack… if it helped it would be worth it.

"And what's the other part? What's not good about knowing what's wrong?"

"There's no cure for it. When something's wrong you want to know that there's a way to fix it, a way to get over it, a way to be… back to how things were _before_ you ever found out there was a problem." Cloud sighed. "It's been hard accepting that this is just the way I am. But I'm okay with it now."

"There's really no cure?" Zack asked, almost breathless.

"None. And, what's even harder about AF is that a lot of medical professionals don't take it seriously. They think it's fake, which is why it took me a long time to get diagnosed."

 _"What?_ People think you’re _faking_ it—think the whole thing is fake?” Zack’s voice hitched with incredulity. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Cloud shrugged one shoulder. He kept looking up, eyeing the bland popcorn ceiling. His pulse throbbed deep in his chest. Having a captive and supportive audience in Zack felt incredibly nice. 

"What about your family? Do they believe you?"

“Ah…well… I don’t know. My parents and my brother… they understand and I feel like they _do_ believe it's a real thing, but I also feel like they _don’t_ at times. It's worst at family get-togethers—when they can see and hear how well everyone else is doing. And I'm over here with my failed military career and my lame delivery job—" he wrinkled his nose. He didn't like thinking of himself in those terms—he didn't like talking about this stuff for that every reason: it brought everything back up for him. "It's hard to not feel like everyone's judging me like, ‘you’re such a letdown’, ‘why can’t you be more like your cousins?’ when I'm surrounded by everyone's success stories.” He couldn’t fault anyone for thinking those things about him or for giving him the impression that they thought those things: he felt that way himself at times.

"Cloud," Zack's whisper held pain and sorrow.

It brought a sting to Cloud's eyes. He blinked it away. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I'm okay, really. I've made peace with it. Talking about it just brings up stuff for me, but I'm okay. My parents don’t mean to put me down and I don't mean for it to sound like they do. They just say things because they don't think and because they’re parents. As long as they know I’m happy, they’re happy for me, and that's what counts the most." He breathed out a hefty sigh, feeling the stone roll off his chest, and yet simultaneously his mind went back to a darker place—"It’s just hard sometimes when I know how much they wish I’d just come back and follow in their footsteps—make them proud, y’know?” The burden grew heavy again and Cloud couldn’t hold the weight of his smile.

“I’m sure you already make them proud. I know I’m proud to know you.”

Zack’s words squeezed Cloud’s chest tight. “Thanks,” he muttered, though he felt pathetic and hoped Zack didn't think he was fishing for sympathy. Cloud kept his eyes trained on the things he could see, instead of casting his sight inward. He felt Zack stir next to him and heard the deep breaths.

“Is there really nothing that can be done about it?”

“Not that I or my doctors know of. It’s a life-long chronic thing. So I can’t serve in the military.”

With a grunt, Zack sat and propped himself up on the pillow. “You shouldn’t have to give up on your dreams. I’m sure there are less physically demanding jobs in the military that you could do—R and D, there's even jobs in the hospitality wing—education? I bet you'd be an _amazing_ teacher. Being in the military isn't all about the frontline soldiers. It's a well-oiled machine with little cogs keeping it all on track. There _must be_ something you could do. Have you ever looked into the other possibilities?”

Cloud bit down the ruffling distaste. “Of course I have," he snapped, looking at Zack, towering above him.

"R-right, sorry. Of course you would've." Zack looked like a wounded puppy.

Cloud felt bad. "Look," he said far softer and also sat up, "of course I know that there are many other jobs to do in the military. My brother's wife is a teacher at one of the army barracks. I have a whole host of family relations who do other things than fight at the frontlines. I _did_ look into other options—"

"And? Did you ever find anything that might sorta maybe interest you?"

"I… well… I thought about maybe becoming a mechanic—"

"Oh yeah, that would be awesome! Cloud the grease monkey," Zack beamed. "I can't tell you how amazing the mechanics I've known have been. They keep our trucks and tanks in top nick. Some of the equipment's so old you can't even get spare parts for them, but they're still purring like kittens all thanks to the amazing teams we've got. It would be incredible for you to be a part of that!”

"Zack," Cloud interjected before Zack could keep spitting out his praises, "I really appreciate the sentiment but all the shit that I’ve been through over the years has completely turned me off ever wanting to be a part of the military ever again." Cloud didn't feel bad about raining on Zack's overenthusiastic parade.

“But…” 

Cloud shook his head and Zack fell silent, frowning with a slight pout turning up his lips. 

"I'm really okay with my life," Cloud insisted, wanting to placate the other man.

Zack looked sad but eventually came out with, “So you _are_ brave."

Cloud huffed with some amusement. “Our definitions of brave must be a bit different.”

“Maybe. You say I’m brave, but I call what I did stupid and reckless. You on the other hand… choosing to go against what everyone expects of you… now that’s brave.”

“It’s not a choice.”

“Yeah, it is. You decided that you didn’t want to conform to your family’s norms when you could have chosen to suffer and stick it out. You chose to be brave and take a different approach to life. That takes courage and fortitude,” he nodded.

Cloud had never thought of himself in those terms. It didn’t quite feel right, but he decided that Zack’s definition didn’t have to fit his own. “Well, if you say so.” 

“I do say so.”

There was something endearing about Zack’s naïve enthusiasm and the fondness he showed Cloud at that moment. A part of Cloud had worried that Zack would scoff at him and not believe him like so many of his extended family and peers had in the past. The fact that Zack _did_ though, was… refreshing and very nice. Cloud smiled softly and hummed. “I kind of wish I had known more supportive people in my life during my years of training. Maybe things would have been different,” he lamented. It had been wrong putting all his hopes on just one person. Maybe if training hadn’t been full of snide remarks and… he sighed the thought away.

Zack’s face turned grim, which Cloud took as his time to open up the discussion that had brought them to this point. He gently nudged Zack with his elbow. “So, I’ve talked about my stuff. Now it’s your turn.” 

“Ah… I, uh—”

Cloud gave an encouraging smile as Zack struggled.

Zack's mouth twitched up into a slight smile, but then he dropped his head. “I kinda grew up not… you know… talking about the inside stuff. It's hard. And awkward, and I don't know where to start and I feel on edge.”

“What are you feeling on edge about?”

Zack groaned. “Do I really have to?”

“Technically, no. But I talked about my stuff, and that wasn’t comfortable either, so…”

“Ahh, so you’re gonna _guilt_ me into it.”

Cloud smiled and shrugged his shoulder.

Zack huffed out a small laugh. His smile dropped and his hand went to his mouth. Zack chewed on his thumbnail and looked deep in thought. It didn’t last long. His head snapped up, face turned toward Cloud. “Promise not to think of me as uncool?”

Cloud laughed gently, “Zack, I can’t promise that. I never thought you were cool to begin with, Mister Dog Juggler, and Naked Marathonist.”

Zack chuckled slow and low, which seemed to ease some of the tension in the room. "I would definitely not recommend running naked and I've made great improvements on the juggling. I can do about five now, instead of just three. Remind me to show you when I'm less tired.”

“You mean the juggling, right?" Cloud felt his cheeks heat up.

Zack laughed. "Yeah."

"Okay,” Cloud said, with a smile and a nod.

Silence descended. This was going to be a weary task, but Cloud felt it important to persevere. “I won’t judge you. I think you're really nice. So, don't feel odd or silly around me. You can tell me things that worry you. I don't need to see chipper, nothing-can-touch-him Zack Fair. I'm here for the inside stuff.” He poked a gentle finger against Zack’s chest.

Zack's hand returned to his mouth and he chewed his rather-blunted nails for a while as he thought.

Cloud remained a quiet and steady presence for Zack. When thunder rumbled outside, Cloud leaned against Zack with his shoulder, thinking—and hoping—that it might help Zack stay calm.

The gesture made Zack's hand drop into his lap and he shifted, rubbing up against Cloud as he did so. Zack’s voice cut through the air, though it was small and brittle, “I can see them, yanno. Their faces. Their… twisted and mangled and—blown apart bodies." Zack winced and wrinkled his nose with distaste. "I… hear the sounds—the shouting… the gunfire—explosions. Especially explosions—this fucking storm.” A tremble went through him and his breath came in short, sharp rasps.

Cloud pressed a firm hand on Zack’s forearm and squeezed. "It's okay."

There was a sharp inhale of breath. Zack’s eyes briefly settled on Cloud, before his gaze fell away again. “I can smell the dust, and smoke, and… blood. The iron. When they draw my blood now for tests now, I… I can't…. Even the _thought_ of the smell of gunpowder…. And… God, this is gonna sound so melodramatic,” Zack groaned with frustration and rubbed at his face. 

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Another struggling breath followed. “I feel the pain of being shot, over and over again. But… you know… that’s not what hurts the most. What absolutely _destroys me_ is seeing my friends, my comrades, my… family—out there—suffering, dying… that kills me… right here,” Zack squeaked and thumped his chest lightly. “I wish it would go away.”

Cloud felt the prickle of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed and rubbed Zack’s arm, trying to be comforting.

Zack placed his hand atop of Cloud’s and grasped tightly. He clenched his jaw. “I keep seeing and feeling that stuff when I’m sleeping, and when I’m awake. When I’m by myself it’s there. I can’t turn it off. It comes at me like… a wave. Big and crushing… out of almost nowhere. Dunking, and pulling me under. And I can’t breathe and I drown in these thoughts and feelings and this…” he wheezed and squeezed his eyes shut, “ _hurt.”_

Cloud rubbed his thumb against Zack's arm, and whispered, "It's alright."

"It's not. I don’t know which way’s up and down. And I tell myself it’ll pass, but sometimes it goes on for so long that—” Zack stopped and went back to gnawing at his blunted nails.

Cloud watched quietly, his heart in his throat. He silently screamed at himself that he wasn’t qualified for any of this stuff. He grew scared that he was going to push Zack too far, but leaving this and ignoring it also felt like the wrong thing to do. He forged on, hoping that if Zack could talk to him about it, he’d be able to open up to an actual professional next. “I know it’s hard. You’re brave and strong talking about this. You’re doing really good.” 

Zack jerked, as if roused out of a deep, far away thought and looked blankly at Cloud.

“What is it?” Cloud asked, his voice hoarse.

Zack blinked rapidly and then his gaze hardened as he looked Cloud up and down, warily. “I ah, worry… and… maybe even… get a little bit—" he swallowed and got out tentatively, "scared?” 

Cloud hummed and wet his lips before saying, “Being scared’s a normal reaction to have, even if no one around you talks about it.” He tried to be reassuring and supposed for someone like Zack it was a big thing to have to admit to feeling.

Zack nodded and uttered, “I get really scared that I’ll never come out of the past. It feels like I'm stuck, will always be stuck. It's…" he frowned and looked like he swallowed down something vile-tasting.

Cloud felt sick hearing Zack talk like that. The urge to soothe him grew tremendous. “No matter how real things might seem, flashbacks are just that, flashes. And they _always_ pass, even if it feels like an eternity when you're in that moment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The smallest smile twitched across Zack's face. “Thanks, Cloud. You know a lot about this?”

He shrugged. “A fair few of my family have had PTSD symptoms, though only my uncle Fred admits to it. When he feels okay he’ll sometimes talk to me about it. I guess he feels like he can talk to me since we’re both kind of like outcasts in the family. He was never the same when he came back from the Eastern conflict, ten or so years ago.”

“I remember that one. A bit of a shit fight.”

“Yeah. It changed him forever. I always knew him as fun and super friendly. He was always a family favorite at parties. But when he came back from that war he was distant and always angry. He was really scary to be around, especially because no one knew what would set him off.”

Zack scowled.

“But he’s a lot better now,” Cloud added with haste. “He knows for the most part how to manage it and how to look after himself when it does hit. But he wouldn’t have managed to get to where he is today without help,” Cloud finished tentatively but also still addressing the larger point and agenda.

Zack wrung his hands and his head hung low: his gaze sat transfixed on his knees under the blanket. 

Warily, Cloud said, “I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you to put your friends and family through endless worry, because they _will_ worry. You can’t keep up all the smiles and jokes forever. And I don’t think anyone will judge you for admitting to needing some help. You’ve been through hell. It would probably be weird if you _didn’t_ come out the other end with some kinda issue.” Cloud didn’t know if he was being helpful. He didn’t know how to ease Zack’s mind and worries, largely because he wasn’t completely sure what Zack was most troubled by.

“I’m the kind of guy who shouldn’t be fazed by this stuff. I should be stronger than that,” Zack reprimanded himself.

“Why? You’re not a superman.”

“Because I’ve built my life around being happy and optimistic. It’s who I am. If I’m not that, then…” Grave darkness knitted Zack’s brows, “well, I have no clue _who_ I am anymore. I feel lost,” he said in a tiny whisper.

A pang of sadness hit Cloud square in the chest. “You can find yourself—rebuild yourself. You can come back from this. My uncle has. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort you can get better,” he tried to reassure.

“Get better…” Zack’s face drew into a tense frown and he muttered, “maybe I don’t deserve to.”

Cloud's jaw slackened. “What do you mean?”

Zack stayed silent for a while, shifting. His face grew ever bitter with its scowl. A heavy exhale broke the quiet. "I sometimes feel like this is my punishment. That I deserve this. That I shouldn’t get better. That I should…."

Cloud's eyes almost bugged out and his back straightened in alarm and discomfort. "You _really_ believe that?"

“I…" Zack took a labored breath. "You know… members of my squad like Barret, and Trudy, and Antonia show up from time to time. I _love_ seeing them, but…” he winced and seemed to shrink in on himself. “Barret’s lost an _arm!_ Trudy’s been through surgeries. I…” his mouth flapped as he helplessly searched for words. Zack sighed. “You said something a while back about how I saved people, and myself. A win-win, right?”

“Yeah.” Cloud vaguely remembered something about that.

“Well, it’s not. I couldn’t save them all. And even the ones _I did save_ … how’s Barret gonna lift his little girl now? Trudy’s gonna have chronic pain. Their lives are ruined. And that’s not even to mention the ones who are _gone_ : Bert, and Trinity, and Augustus, and Marco! _God!_ And there’s Salvatore, and Eugene, and Samantha— _Felicity_ , and Jon… Theo—” his voice broke woefully. Zack took a deep breath as he curled in on himself, clutching his middle. “All of them and the others will _never_ be able to visit. I failed them. They counted on me to keep them safe and I _failed_ them.” Zack balled his hands into fists and dug them into his eyes.

A great weight sat at the top of Cloud’s chest, making it hard to breathe as he watched that wall of positivity, which Zack enveloped himself in, come crumbling down. Cloud would have been lying if he didn’t admit to being relieved. He hadn’t been able to understand how anyone could be so cheerful. Turns out Zack wasn’t. He was human after all. But it was incredibly sad to witness. “You lived. That’s important too,” he whispered.

“Why? What makes me more important than any of the rest?” Zack gave a plaintive growl and shot Cloud a feral scowl. “Trinity and Augustus had their whole lives ahead of themselves. They were gonna get married. Samantha was going to start up a charity to help the kids in the neighborhood she grew up in. Jon—Jon was the most positive person I ever knew. He could brighten the whole squad's spirit, even at the grimmest times.”

Zack breathed heavily, seemingly trying to restrain himself. “No. If this is win-win then… I don’t want it.” He looked over at Cloud, a little softer this time. His eyes shimmered with welling tears. The fatigue on his face aged Zack a decade and accentuated the grimness that sat on his brows. “Most days are so shit. I—” Zack looked away and his breath rasped on the inhaled. “I wish I hadn’t made it out alive. I wish I wasn't here," came his mousy squeak, followed by a twisted and pained expression.

The words and Zack's visible pain hung thick in the air. Cloud felt like he got a punch to the gut.

Zack wiped at his eyes and the anguish faded but left a scowl of disgust. “Is that dumb? Am I feeling sorry for myself?” came the reproachful question.

Cloud frowned and shook his head. “No, it’s not dumb.”

Watery eyes returned to settle on Cloud. Something like the smallest of smiles appeared to ghost on Zack’s paling face. “You sure? ‘Cause I hate feeling this way. Sorry for myself, yanno? People _died_. I have no right to be sad and feel sorry for myself. That’s why I need to—But… each day I’m in here and nothing feels like it’s getting better. The things wrong with me keep piling up, and everything is getting worse. It’s hard to wear smiles but I’ve got to. I can’t worry people.”

Cloud didn’t know what to say or do. His stomach had lead in it. He ran his hand down Zack’s arm to his hand, clasping it in support. 

Zack's fingers twitched in response. 

“How are things getting worse?” Cloud asked, gently.

Zack looked at their hands and rubbed his lips together. With a heaviness dragging his voice low, he said, “I’ve been here for five months and it looks like I’ll be here for another four, if not more. I can’t stand it. I’m gonna go nuts. Maybe I’ve already gone nuts. Maybe that’s what’s really going on here. Not PTSD but just insanity. Maybe I’m already dead and this is purgatory. I don’t fucking know.” Zack slapped his forehead with his free hand and proceeded to pull at his own hair, letting out a grunt.

“You’re not nuts.”

“How can you know?” Wide, pleading eyes pinned Cloud in place.

“Well, for one, the insane people never question whether they’re going crazy or not. So that alone should make you safe.” Cloud tacked on a hopefully optimistic smile, though he didn’t really know how those things were supposed to work or look on his face.

Zack's brows creased deeply and a sad, yet soft look glazed his eyes. “What if I’m so insane that I made you up in my head and you’re just telling me what I want to hear? I mean, I must have, right? You’re way too perfect to be real,” Zack squeezed Cloud's hand where they still held one another.

Cloud’s gut twisted and butterflies danced for a second. “I—No, that’s not… ah—”

Zack gave a small smile, which knocked Cloud back to his senses. “Look, you can’t be so narcissistic to think that you can make me up with all my bizarre hangups. I’m pretty real, and you’re not crazy, okay? I’d be the first person to tell you you’ve lost your mind.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Zack gave a small laugh and leaned against Cloud, bumping their shoulders and pressing his forehead against Cloud’s for a moment before pulling away again. 

Zack’s affectionate touch brought a smile to Cloud’s face. “You know, things will get better. You just have to be patient.”

The budding good cheer fell away. “Be patient? Is that all I need to do?” Zack looked down toward his covered legs. “I don’t think a lack of patience is my problem, Cloud.” He withdrew his hand from Cloud’s, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands into his armpits. “I fucked up not only _my_ life, but I also killed people and completely _destroyed_ the lives of some of the closest people in my life. How can I ever make things right?”

Cloud gaped as the fragile good mood suddenly evaporated. “How can you blame yourself? The military has a chain of command. You were just following orders, no?”

“I should have used my better judgment. I should have seen the ambush coming. I shouldn’t have insisted before we ever set out, that we could see the mission through,” Zack spoke with some biting heat. “I was cocky, and arrogant, and it cost lives. And I shouldn't have played at being a dumb hero. I should have just… died out there.” Zack unfolded his arms and buried his face in his palms. His shoulders started shaking and ugly sobs sounded.

Cloud bore witness to the tears and pain that seeped out of Zack, as the man finally, properly, let go. Cloud felt uncomfortable and responsible for the scene beside him. He had poked and prodded Zack too much. 

Like the night before, Cloud acted on instinct. He leaned over, wrapped his arms around Zack's shoulders, and pulled him close.

Zack grabbed Cloud, balled his hands into fists, and clung onto the shirt Cloud wore. Zack buried his face against Cloud’s shoulder and continued his outpouring of grief and pain in high-pitched and stilted sobs. Cloud held onto Zack’s trembling body, sinking his face into raven hair. 

Finding his voice, Cloud ever so gently said, “Thank you for telling me. I don’t think you should think like that though, Zack—that you don’t deserve to be around—that you should have died. It’s not true and doesn't suit you,” he gently murmured, trying to be encouraging and comforting, but feeling like he was failing at it miserably. All he could really do was continue patting Zack’s back in a slow rhythm for a while.

Rain pelted. Thunder rolled. Lightning sparked and the room grew darker even with the lights on at full strength. Zack flinched from time to time, which made his breath hitch, and in turn caused him to cry all the harder. But sobs eventually stilled. Zack pulled away. Eyes puffy and red, and lips trembling. “I wish I hadn’t failed them. How can I ever make things right?”

Cloud stared into pools of blue misery. His chest ached. “You make them right by living. As long as you’re here you can do things to honor those you lost.”

Zack sniffed, wiped at his eyes, and stopped leaning on Cloud. He sat up straight with his head resting against the large plastic headboard of the bed. He stared up at the dormant TV. The rain still fell, the wind howled. Zack’s breath still rasped and shook with the occasional sob. He turned and locked eyes with Cloud after a little while. “I won’t be able to honor _anyone_ if I can’t serve. And I won’t be able to serve if things keep going wrong with my recovery. Never mind what’s going on up in here,” he tapped at his head, “It’s everything else that’s really scaring the shit out of me.”

Cloud followed Zack’s stare down towards his legs. “How bad is it?”

“It’s really hard to say. The wounds keep weeping because the bones aren’t setting right, and I need to keep going in for more surgeries.” Zack sighed. “I hate looking at myself. I can barely wash myself, because every time I do—” he shook his head a little, “I see the massacre of that day. It’s all over my body.” Zack rubbed at his face with some force.

“Is that why—” Cloud pointed at his own cheek.

Zack gave a dismal laugh and sniffled. “It’s so dumb. I’m so fucking vain. As if keeping the thing on will somehow magically heal the scar. I know it's gonna be there for the rest of my life. I… I just don’t want to see it. I can barely ignore my body. How’m I gonna manage having to see my face and having _others_ see my face?” he shook his head and puffed out a gust of air. “It’s a constant reminder of what happened, what I did, what I _didn’t_ do. How Ifailed.” He winced and held his cheek.

Curiosity attacked Cloud. “Can I—I mean if you don’t mind—do you want to show me?”

Heavy eyes rolled over Cloud for some time. 

The stare unsettled him. “You don’t have to,” Cloud recanted his offer.

Zack blew out a long breath. “Will you give me your honest opinion?”

Cloud nodded. “Always.”

Zack exhaled in a pained way, and slowly picked away at the fabric and tape plastered to his cheek. He peeled it off, grimacing with pain as if he was removing his actual skin. Once Zack had completely removed it he hung his head low. It looked like a tremendous effort for Zack to lift his eyes to meet Cloud’s. 

“What’s the verdict?” he ventured, timidly.

The wound-turned-scar ran up the side of Zack’s left cheek. The very center of the thin channel, which a probable bullet had carved out, looked cauterized. It was still red and raw, but healing. “It’s not so bad actually,” Cloud spoke, honestly.

“Yeah?” Disbelief shaded the question.

Cloud nodded. “Gives you a rugged look. One I’m sure all the ladies will love.” He gave his best smile.

Zack laughed with bitterness, but some of the grimness left his face. He smoothed the gauze back over his face and kept his hand pressed to it as he asked, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you love the rugged look?”

Cloud’s stomach dropped as did his jaw. He didn’t know what to say. He felt hot though. “I… think you look better not wearing a big white plaster on your face.” 

The low chuckle grew with strength. Zack moved his hand, taking the gauze with it. He held it between his fingers and stared down at it with his lips twisting and dancing between a smile and a wince. “Like this, then.”

The fact that Zack lightened up a fraction came as a relief to Cloud, but the shame the soldier harbored for his own handsome appearance also still sat heavy in Cloud's chest. He didn't like seeing Zack so emotionally wounded. “Yeah, like that. If you can get your confidence back and wear your scar with pride, it’ll look ten times better.”

A weaker smile followed. “Pride, huh? How’s pride going to make _this_ better?” Zack pulled back the blanket covering him. He hesitated a moment before grabbing at and lifting the hem of his dark gray shirt, revealing his abdomen.

Cloud leaned away sharply, startled at the reveal; Zack’s abdomen completely riddled with scar tissue, where he’d been peppered with a hail of bullets. There were a lot of grazes, to lesser or worse degrees than the one on his cheek. There were also some very deep, through-and-through wounds, which left craters on his body. 

“That bad, huh?” came Zack’s sad sounding voice.

Cloud clapped his mouth shut after realizing how badly he was staring.

The self-disgust sat plastered all over Zack’s face, but he continued to hold his shirt aloft. “I guess a small scratch on my face is nothing compared to this—how’m I ever supposed to come back from this, Cloud?”

"I…” he felt his mouth flap as he tried to find something that might help Zack. But in the end all he said was, “I don't know." 

The revulsion on Zack’s face deepened. “I’m disgusting. Horrible. Who’d ever want to touch me looking like this?” Zack’s knuckles turned white and he lowered his shirt.

Cloud’s fingers twitched. “C-can I?” Unsure what came over him, he stretched his hand and fingers toward Zack, which netted him a funny look. Cloud panicked. He probably pushed the boundaries of good taste, but he didn't want Zack to feel like no one would ever want to touch or look at him ever again. Especially when he’d happily… 

Zack looked at Cloud with shimmering eyes. “You sure? You don’t have to just to…”

“I want to…. Please,” Cloud whispered.

With a shaky breath, Zack gave a tiny nod and lifted his shirt back up.

A slight nervous tremble ran through Cloud as he reached out. He paused, hesitant to touch Zack. His fingertips hovered inches away before closing the distance with a flush of embarrassment running through him. 

Zack flinched at the touch. 

“S-sorry.” Cloud pulled his hand away, but Zack grabbed hold of him gently, and pushed Cloud’s palm back against his stomach.

“Your hand’s just cold,” Zack muttered and gave Cloud a fleeting smile.

“Ah. Sorry,” he said again and moved his hand, rubbing his fingers against Zack’s warm, lumpy skin.

Cloud’s fingers might have been close to icicles, but he definitely felt the warmth of his embarrassed flush deepen and creep over his face and neck as he traced over the bumpy scar tissue crisscrossing Zack’s torso. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this… but if it helped Zack in some small way he was happy to own this temporary embarrassment.

“Does it still hurt?” Cloud asked softly, flicking his gaze between Zack’s stomach and the man’s face.

Zack shook his head. “Not the superficial stuff. I feel pretty stiff and achy where the bullets went all the way through though.” He pulled a face and guided Cloud’s hand across to his side, “Like here, and here.”

“I’m sorry,” Cloud husked.

“Nah, it’s okay. Talking about it… helps.” Zack smiled but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Anything else you want to know?”

Cloud studied Zack’s abdomen. His skin was a slight shade paler. “What’s it feel like? Is it… sensitive? Or numb?” He traced the outline of a large scar, the pad of his finger shifting over scar tissue and patches of clear skin.

Zack’s stomach rose and fell sharply.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered again.

“It just tickles.” A soft and genuine smile graced Zack’s lips then. “I can still feel. But like… here,” he gently took up Cloud’s hand and moved him over to a patch of long and thick scabs near his hip, “it’s not that sensitive. But here,” he moved Cloud’s hand up under his shirt to his sternum to a patch of smooth skin, “That feels normal, I guess.” He held Cloud’s hand there, pressed close to his thumping heart.

Cloud swallowed and looked away first. He pulled his hand out of Zack’s hold, but slowly swept his fingers down to Zack’s abdomen again. “It's really not so bad. I mean… it looks bad _now,_ but a lot of these scars will get better with time. People will see beyond this.”

Zack stared at Cloud with intensity, his hand falling to his side. “You're just saying that to be nice.”

“I don’t really say things to be nice, and you know that.” He gave Zack a wry smile which netted him a small chuckle. “I mean it, Zack,” Cloud continued. “These scars…” he pondered what his response should be. He looked at Zack’s stomach, soft from muscle wastage, and rough from scar tissue. “I want to say that they don't define you—that you're more than what's on your skin.”

“But?”

“But… they actually _do_ define you.”

Brows instantly knit together.

With haste Cloud added on, “But not in a bad way. You're charming, fun to be with, warm, and caring.” Cloud felt certain the heat in his cheeks showed. “That's why you got yourself looking like this. It's not because you failed. You got them because everyone you meet admires you and is willing to follow you to the ends of the earth. You got them because you selflessly risked your own life to help those you could. And… you did that because you're a genuinely nice guy. After all, you _are_ the guy who made up situations so he could save teddy bears. Being a hero is like… in your DNA or something. You're all heart, Zack Fair. Maybe a bit reckless and impulsive, but I'm sure people are happy to overlook that. I know I am.” Cloud took his eyes off where he still brushed over the scars on Zack’s body, and gave the other man a soft smile. He never thought himself good at talking, but… it felt easier when Zack was around to listen to him.

Fresh tears gathered in Zack's eyes. “Thanks,” he murmured, and the water droplets fell as he blinked.

Cloud withdrew his hand from Zack’s body, feeling self-conscious. He gently brushed against Zack’s hands that still held the shirt aloft and guided it back down, covering Zack up. “You should be proud of what you did. You couldn’t save everyone, but you _did_ save people. Your friends are still here because of you. And yes,” Cloud cut off Zack's sounds of protest. “They might have a missing limb or aches that will never go away, but they are still _alive_ because of you. And sure, you didn’t save _all_ of them, but if it hadn’t been for you, _all_ the people you knew could have been dead. You’re not to blame for what happened. You were a corporal. You got ambushed. Don’t blame yourself. You’re a hero. You're… remarkable,” he breathed out softly and became aware of the flutter in his chest. 

Zack huffed deeply, a genuine look of confusion twisting his face. “You… really think so? I… caused so much harm—”

“You _saved people_. You’re amazing.” A strange sense of awe overcame him—a sense of being before someone so incredible it would have been intimidating if Cloud had just met him without knowing what a goofball Zack could be underneath all the honor and glory of his battlefield actions. “I’m lucky to know you,” he murmured with an abashed meekness.

Zack blinked rapidly. He shook his head and winced as he said, “Even though I… look like this, and I’m all broken inside and outside?”

Cloud felt his heart beat deep in his chest and the pulse rising up his throat. “I really think so. And… you’re _not_ broken. Don’t think of yourself like that.”

“How should I think about myself then? I’m stuck here for a reason, yanno.”

“Mm… think of this like… a vacation from your everyday life. You’re resting right now—recuperating after a really rough assignment. You’ll be out of here in no time, going back to your normal life. Just be patient and you’ll get back to it, in good time.”

Zack chuckled in a tired way. “A vacation….” He sighed. “It’s a pretty shitty vacation but,” he huffed out a laugh, “I’ll consider that option.”

Silence descended. It was comfortable though. The torrential roar of rain had simmered down to a gentle prattle, yet thunder could still be heard off in the distance. Everything considered, Zack looked at peace with himself, albeit sad. So very sad.

“Thank you for having told me… and shown me your worries. You’re not so bad at talking about the inside stuff.” Cloud gave Zack a gentle smile.

Zack reciprocated and the sadness washed away. “Thanks, buddy. You make it easier to get out.”

Cloud looked away, terrified his cheeks were glowing. How had he gotten into this mess of a situation; opening up to someone and… having become an emotional support? “Do you feel better for it?” he asked, wanting to draw attention off himself.

Zack hummed as he thought about it. “Maybe? I’m not sure. I feel embarrassed, tired, and weak. Has this changed how you think of me?”

“Of course it has. All that stuff you told me… it doesn't make you weak, or uncool. It makes you human. It makes me like you more,” he said truthfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Cloud huffed and nodded. “Why’s that so hard to believe?”

Zack shrugged. “Guess I don’t like myself very much right now. I don’t see how anyone else could if they saw me for how I actually am.”

“Well, I see you and I still like you. I like you _more."_

Zack's eyes locked onto Cloud's, which made Cloud's stomach knot. He swallowed. "You’ve gone through a huge traumatic event. You lost a lot of people you cared for, and that is gonna stay with you for probably the rest of your life—” Zack flinched. Cloud kept talking to try and take the sting away, “But despite all of that, you’re trying your best not to let your hurt show, because you always worry about everyone else before yourself, for better or worse. You’re a really good guy, Zack. The adversity you got hit with just proves it because people show their true colors when they are at their weakest point. And you are incredibly strong, even now—especially now. Telling me everything you told me… opening up about the things that bother you—that's courageous. Admitting to this inside stuff shows how incredible you are. It doesn't take anything away from you."

Zack looked to be somewhere between a smile and deep upset. He nodded and sucked on his lips.

An overwhelming sadness dumped on Cloud at the sight. He thought of all the things he’d ever thought of Zack before he had truly known him, and felt incredibly guilty over it all. “You know what, Zack?”

“What?”

“I forgive you. We’re even.”

Zack tilted his head to the side. “Even? Even for what?”

“For pretending to be asleep for so long."

“Oh, that…” Zack slapped his hand over his mouth, before dropping it back down, “I thought we were even a long time ago now.”

“Nope. We weren’t. But we are now.”

A breathy sound of amusement left Zack. “Well, that’s good to know. I’m glad you stuck around. You make being here a lot more bearable for me.”

Cloud felt happy to hear that and smiled. He certainly had never pictured himself being fond of the other man when he had first been assigned the job. He didn’t mind that he had been completely wrong. “You make it pretty easy to like you.”

They shared gentle looks. Thunder rolled, starling them both, and leaving Zack wincing.

“Unpopular opinion, but I still think you should get help.”

Zack sighed and cupped his left cheek.

“Hear me out first, okay?”

“Go on then.”

“If you don’t get the help you need it’s gonna get worse, not better. You need to get professional help, and soon. The quicker you address it, the quicker you can fix it and maybe get over it completely.”

“It’s… not so bad. I’m pretty sure I can get through this.” Zack dropped his hand and rested it close to Cloud's in the space between them on the bed.

“Don’t be stubborn. Not about this,” Cloud frowned at the other man.

“No, really, it’s okay. I feel better when you’re here.”

A small part of Cloud liked hearing that, but he refused to be swayed. “I can’t be here all the time. Make an appointment with your psychologist. Talk to them about this.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, it’s gonna go on my personal record.”

Cloud opened his mouth to dismiss Zack’s concern, but then quickly shut it again. He thought he understood Zack a little bit better now. He didn’t like the excuse, but he understood there was a lot on the line for Zack. Just because he personally didn’t like the military didn’t give him the right to dismiss Zack’s feelings about his job, his life, his _family_. Cloud understood what the military meant to people—his _own_ family…. He still wanted Zack to get help though. “It should all be confidential,” he reassured.

Zack remained quiet for a moment. “It _should_ be, but they’ll need to know if I’m fit for duty.”

“Wouldn’t that be more an independent assessment? I don’t think the hospital psychologists report to the military.”

Cloud could almost see the cogs turning inside Zack’s head.

The man ventured a careful, “Maybe.”

“At least ask. _Please?_ I know seeing a professional really helped my uncle. I think it could help you too. Give yourself a chance to get better.”

Zack looked torn. He scrunched up his face and looked away for a while. His hand went back to his face, fingertips tracing the scar etched there. He turned back to Cloud, with a heavy, “Okay. I'll look into it,” leaving his throat.

Cloud felt relieved. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_. It’s a bit hard to think clearly right now.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

They looked at each other. Cloud felt a kinship with Zack that hadn’t been there before. Warmth radiated and Cloud noticed the way his pulse raced. As much as he liked that impossibly soft smile directed at himself, it was also too much, and so he looked away.

“Wanna watch something?” he deflected, getting off the bed and finding the remote before he ever got an answer.

But it was all right, because Zack gave a predictable, “Sure.”

They watched a bunch of daytime TV, until Bernice and Francis came in. Zack didn’t flinch or pause when Bernice requested he lift his shirt for his injections; he merely smiled at Cloud, despite it being tense, whilst he chatted to the nurse. Cloud continued to stay even after they were both left alone again—though he did leave to get them a round of burgers (and himself an extra-strong brew of coffee), as a special treat for having had such a difficult talk. When Cloud got back they ate and continued to watch the mind-numbing programming while a very comfortable peace enveloped the room.

The night drew on and eventually Cloud got up to leave when he caught sight of Zack nodding off, which rouses the other man, “Wha—you going?”

“Yeah. You need your sleep, and I’m also feeling ready for bed… but that’s my life twenty-four hours every day,” he smiled in a self-deprecating way.

“Stay. You can sleep here.” Zack shuffled over a little.

Cloud’s heart ached over the thought of leaving. “I can’t. It’s not comfortable for either of us. Go to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll miss you.”

The full impact of those words hit Cloud, but lucky for him Zack was too busy yawning and squeezing his eyes shut to see Cloud's embarrassment. And Zack's yawn, in turn, made Cloud yawn, taking with it the discomfort.

They shared a small smile. "Sorry," Zack said.

“It's okay. You’ll be okay. We both need sleep."

Zack nodded, sinking deeper into the sheets. “Give me a hug before you go?”

Cloud stepped over, leaned down, and indulged in the firm hold Zack doled out. Fatigue swept in at that moment—Zack felt incredibly comfortable and Cloud could have nodded off then and there. But he roused himself out of it, with a warning remark, "Remember, you promised you’d get some help. When I come back I want to hear you got it all sorted out," he pressed and pulled away, standing up tall.

Zack saluted with two fingers to his temples even as his eyes slid shut. Cloud looked on at the remarkable man before him. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his body. Zack made him feel all kinds of strange sensations—or maybe it was just his need for sleep. He turned away from the feelings and walked around to the bedside table to switch off the TV with the remote.

Zack stirred. "Please leave it on."

"Oh, okay, sorry." Cloud turned it back on.

"Thanks."

"Night."

"Mm," was all that Zack said as fatigue took him.

Cloud struggled with his own feelings and longed for rest. He left and went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now you know some of what's been packed away in Cloud's suitcase of issues. Nothing dramatic -or maybe it is, I dunno. I hope it puts some minds at ease and I also hope it didn't disappoint. Zack's also carrying an insurmountable load of concerns and this is all just the tip of the iceberg for the both of them. 😍
> 
> Comments and kudos would be appreciated if you've enjoyed the story thus far.
> 
> An atmospheric chapter song from the playlist - [Me by The 1975](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hu0xlyLwK7Q)


	8. Consolation Prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendly wager leaves Cloud far more impacted than he’d like to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo!
> 
> I have decided to add a few more tags. This is officially designated a slow burn now because it's dawned on me that _yes_ , this goes beyond normal 'Cloud levels' of warming up to a relationship. I will say though that I tend to write Cloud as demiromantic/demisexual (Zack-sexual, TBH, lol), so he's like, not used to feeling the things he feels for Zack coz it doesn't happen very often that he experiences that kinda thing.
> 
> Chronic illness warning applies to this chapter and the rest is wrapped up in bit of light(ish) fluff.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Cloud was sick. He was _so sick._ It happened sometimes—a lot, really. But it hadn't happened in the last few months—not as bad as this. It's like a truck of exhaustion had slammed into him as soon as he’d set foot inside his home yesterday. He could _barely_ get up—a laborious trip to the kitchen for a cup of water, a bite of something raw or processed to eat, a miserable attempt to wake up under a cold shower, was the best he could muster every now and then. He mainly stayed unconscious for large swathes of the day and night and the longer he slept—and the longer he went without anything substantial in his stomach—the weaker he got.

By the time he realized how bad this current bout of adrenal fatigue was he couldn't answer his phone, or make a call, even if he wanted to. He couldn’t stretch out to his bedside stand to grab it. His limbs weighed a ton, his head a dead weight, his eyes barely able to stay open for a second. When his phone finally ran out of charge Cloud felt relieved. The ringing and pings finally stopped. He could sleep.

There was no concept of time. Cloud didn’t know how many days passed until Tifa roused him from sleep; it had been four. She had a spare key to Cloud's apartment; they had an agreement for her to come check on him, especially since he hadn’t been in touch like he’d promised.

She took care of him: restocked the fridge with easy to prep meals, cooked up a big batch of soup, which she portioned and froze, and plugged his phone in to charge again.

He sat, slouched, head bowed over the bowl of hot soup steaming up his face. He could barely hold a spoon. Tifa provided a straw. Some of Cloud’s energy returned and he definitely fought with himself to not be such a big baby. "Thanks but no thanks. Spoon is fine," he rumbled weakly.

She sat opposite of him, at the small white dining table made from cheap wood and gave him a worried smile. "I'm so sorry I didn't come to check on you earlier. I knew you said you weren’t feeling well the last time we saw each other. I should have checked on you the first day when I didn’t hear from you.”

Cloud shook his head and slowly slurped the broth, feeling better for a proper meal in his belly. “It’s okay. Thanks for coming around at all.”

“Again, I’m so sorry. It’s been one headache after another at work and I completely forgot. I feel like such a bad friend—and an even worse employer.” She wore a disgruntled expression.

"No, I appreciate it,” he said, a little taken aback. He sometimes forgot that she was also a _friend_ and not _just_ his boss. He figured he’d better ask, “What's been happening? How are you?"

She brushed her hair behind her ear. “You remember that small leak in the back that turned into like a dozen?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s now turned into a great big hole in the roof—” 

“Oh, what?” Cloud exclaimed, lifting his head a little and strained to focus on her.

“The rain has been really bad. I’ve had to chase around contractors to get it fixed. We had an indoor lake. Gavin and Charlie have been helping me clean up and we managed to finally get a tarp over the roof. It’s alright for now, but getting hold of my insurer is proving difficult. Seems like a lot of other people have had problems too and it’s clogging up the lines.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’ll come help.”

“I want you well enough to get back into delivery driving. Because of the mess at the home office a lot of stock got ruined and nothing got delivered. We’re very behind, so an extra hand would be good. But really, I want you to get your strength back first, so don’t worry about the business.”

Cloud nodded and kept eating his soup. A sour expression settled on his face with the knowledge of having been needed but having been a failure. He detested letting down those who relied on him.

“Zack’s been asking about you.”

Cloud’s spoon clattered into the bowl and he snapped his head up to look at her. “Is he doing okay?” He had completely forgotten about Zack. He felt guilty as shit.

Tifa smiled. "I think so. He seems to really miss you though."

Cloud's cheeks prickled. He refocused on the soup, eating it, and between mouthfuls said, "I'll get back into driving in a few days. Please don't tell him about this."

"Of course.” 

"Thanks." 

Cloud ate his soup but he could feel Tifa sitting on a question, and then—

“How are you feeling about him lately?”

Cloud shrugged.

She huffed out an amused-sounding breath. “You don’t complain about doing delivery runs to him anymore.”

“He’s alright.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.”

Cloud looked up at her, a thought scratching at his foggy head. “Why were you so pushy about me doing the runs to the hospital?”

Tifa slung her arm over the back of the dining chair and looked at Cloud for a while before she said, “Logistics.”

“Logistics?”

“Mm,” she nodded. “Aerith’s greenhouse is forty-five minutes to an hour away depending on traffic. That’s a big chunk of time out of the delivery schedule for just one trip, and we usually don’t get any other deliveries out that way so there is no other reason to go there. I gave that run to you to keep you in check. You can feasibly only do five runs comfortably, six if you’re pushing, and seven if there’s some super local ones close together. So this helps me to fatigue-manage you.” She winked.

“Ah,” was all that Cloud had to say to that.

Tifa chuckled.

Cloud stared into his near-empty bowl of soup. His limbs felt stronger. He had more energy, but he was still aware of a deep buzzing and trembling in his body and his eyelids felt like heavy sandbags. He really hadn’t been this unwell since before he’d been doing Aerith’s delivery runs—since Tifa put her foot down and ‘fatigue-managed’ him, as she called it. He raised his head and looked at her. 

Tifa’s soft features turned up into a smile.

“Thank you,” he uttered from the depth of his heart.

She grinned, placed her elbows on the table, raised her hands, and rested her chin there. “You’re so welcome.”

Tifa stayed for a while longer, keeping Cloud company and engaged in pleasant conversation revolving around superficial topics before she left, leaving Cloud to rest.

### 

He was up and about again in another two days—his recovery probably halted because he had stressed about Zack during his awake moments. He fought with himself to not go first thing to the hospital before he ever made it to work. A palatable relief washed over Cloud at seeing Aerith's name on his worksheet, and then he had to fight himself to not make that the priority of his workday. He really wanted to check on Zack, but knew he'd probably spend the remainder of his day there, so hurried with getting all his jobs done before getting the flowers.

He tried to keep the smile off his face, but failed miserably as Zack's jovial greeting boomed through the air, "Cloud! You're back! _Man!_ I've really missed seeing you. C'mere and gimme a big hug," Zack sat up straight, pushed the tray table away, and leaned against the bed’s railing with his arms outstretched and waiting.

While the warm welcome filled Cloud with more guilt over having been gone for so long it also stuffed him with joy over having been genuinely missed. He still tried to swallow down the smile as he walked over, but Zack’s cheerful grin proved infectious, especially as it sat on a face that looked far better rested than the last time Cloud had set eyes on him. 

"Sorry I disappeared." He put the bouquet of elaborately-placed ferns and colorful flowers aside on the tray table and leaned down. Zack's arms slapped around him, pulling him right against the bed-ridden man. A tiny laugh burbled out of Cloud and he reciprocated the hug, folding his arms against the boney back and nestling his nose into the messy black hair.

Zack's body exuded warmth, his hair felt coarse, his scent… Cloud inhaled deeply. He pulled back. Zack eased off, grinning up at him, but still held him by the elbows. "I'm so glad to see you again." Zack's smile dropped. "You're okay though, right?"

Cloud nodded. "Yes. What about you? How have you been? Did you…"

Zack let go of Cloud and rubbed at his neck. A sharp laugh snapped through the air. "The storm's gone. I’ve been getting sleep and I'm fine now."

Cloud glowered, cocking a hip and resting his arms on his waist. “You _promised_ you would talk to someone about this.”

"Aww, c'mon. Look, I _did_ think about it, but… I've really been okay. I feel fine. There's nothing—" 

Cloud slapped his hand down on the tray table causing an explosive racket.

Zack jumped and grunted in a high-pitch, curling in on himself.

"You're _not_ fine," Cloud said, pointedly, shaking the sting from his hand.

"You don't fucking know _shit!"_ Zack snapped with a twisted expression and bared teeth. Contempt oozed from every pore. The glaring expression fell in the blink of an eye. He clutched and bowed his head. "Sorry," he muttered and huffed.

Cloud blew air from his nose, irritated at Zack’s stubbornness. He grew annoyed at himself that they couldn’t even have 5 minutes of pleasantries before they had devolved into whatever _this_ was right now. He walked around to the left side of the bed and sat down at the far end of the mattress like a sack of rocks dropped on the ground. He willed the agitation out of his voice, not wanting to come across as lecturing as he said, "I'm sorry too. Please, just talk to someone."

Deep breaths were the only sound from Zack for a while. His eyes were downcast, and his head turned away from Cloud. 

A sickening feeling, mixed with anger, ran through Cloud. He clenched his jaw and helplessly watched on as a tremble rattled through Zack's body.

"Shit," Zack muttered and clenched his hands into fists, stopping the shake which he finally noticed.

Cloud felt despicable for having caused this. "Do you want to watch anything?" he asked in order to rid himself of the guilt.

Zack nodded weakly. Cloud got up, fetched the remote, switched on the TV, and handed the controls over to Zack. He walked around the bed to get to the guest chair.

"You can sit here next to me." Zack shuffled a little, making space and giving him a hopeful look.

Cloud actually gave pause to his automatic, 'No, thanks.' He thought about it: Zack's warmth, the memory of lying on the bed with the other man over a week ago. He swallowed the small lump, and unable to hold the eye contact, shook his head.

Zack’s nose wrinkled a little, and then a lot more with the smile he tacked on. “Suit yourself.” He turned his attention back to the TV and flicked through the channels, eventually halting on a forensics program based around aviation disasters.

“Have you seen this episode?” Zack asked.

“No, don’t think so.”

“Cool, me neither.” 

Both men watched silently for a while. The tense feeling sitting in the top of his chest gradually left Cloud as Zack relaxed on the bed next to him. They started talking: commenting on the programming and chatting about inconsequential things during the ad breaks. Then, about mid-way into the program, Zack said, during another commercial break, “Bet it was a bird strike.”

“Bird strike wouldn’t cause all the internal systems to fail like that,” Cloud retorted.

“What’s your bright idea then, mister smarty pants?” Zack cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

“Volcanic ash clogging up the sensors.”

“The volcano is like a thousand miles away.”

“Air currents.”

“Air currents,” Zack parroted in a mocking tone. “Bet you’re wrong.”

“And I bet _you’re_ wrong,” Cloud challenged.

“Oh, it’s on, buddy. If you’re right, you can have anything from me that you want. And if _I’m_ right, I can get anything from you that I want. Deal?”

Zack’s terms smacked Cloud right in the chest. He swallowed, his mind nervously racing around what Zack could possibly be thinking about asking from him. “Like what?” He had nothing to offer as a prize.

Zack thought for a moment, rubbing his lips together and delicately wetting them with his tongue. Cloud stared and observed the motion. He also took in Zack’s features, much more handsome now that the gauze was off. The scar already looked better than when he last saw it. Zack returned his attention onto Cloud, and Cloud snapped his eyes away so he wouldn’t be caught staring.

A wicked-looking smirk spread across Zack’s lips. “I know what I want.”

Cloud gulped. “Yeah?”

“I would like kisses from you.”

Cloud’s mind ground to a halt. His mouth fell open. His stomach dropped into his feet. He forgot how to breathe.

They looked at each other in silence. Zack’s devilish smirk weakened with every blink of his eyes. It faded, and then disappeared, morphing into an ever-so-slight frown. All the while Cloud stared, unable to think or communicate, though he did close his mouth and swallowed the great big lump that sat right in the back of his throat while his heart beat so hard it caused his whole body to vibrate. 

Zack huffed. A nose-wrinkling smile exploded across his face and he said, whilst softly chuckling, “The chocolates, yanno? _Hershey’s_ Kisses. They’re some of my favorites. You buy me a box when I inevitably win.”

Cloud felt his body begin working again. He exhaled the held-in breath, relaxed his shoulders, and his stomach came back from the depths it had plunged to. But his heart still hammered, and something heavy sat in his chest. _Disappointment?_ No. He tried to laugh it out of himself. “Sure,” he said, feeling… _weird_. Wanting to distract himself he huffed, and defiantly crossed his arms. “Well, when _you_ lose, I want to have my pick of one of your dogs from your collection.”

Zack gasped and looked worried for a moment, but then an aloof expression crossed his face. “Fine. Whatever. You’re gonna be wrong so I’m not even worried.”

They exchanged looks, the commercial ended and they returned their attention to the program, though Cloud’s mind _raced_ around Zack’s request. Kisses. Of course the man had meant the chocolates. Why had his mind even gone to the _other_ kind? Why was there a weird buzzing in his body and a knot in his stomach? Why did he feel so _unwell?_ _Kisses._ He became acutely aware of Zack on the bed, even as he tried to focus on what was happening on the screen. _Focus_. Cloud needed to focus so he could hear the verdict of the investigation.

Was he attracted to Zack? Cloud’s stomach knotted ever tighter. _No._ Of course not. It wasn’t anything like that.

Focus.

Zack always smelled so nice.

_Focus._

The man’s warm touch, bright smile, snug embraces—

_Focus!_

He was so pleasant to talk to.

_Focuuuus!_

Cloud took a deep breath, forced himself to relax into the armchair, and glared at the television, _focusing_.

By the end of the program Zack’s room was filled with groans of disappointment—from both parties. 

_“Human error?_ Seriously?” Zack exclaimed loudly, flinging himself back against his pillows, grunting deeply at the ceiling.

“Definitely didn’t see that coming,” Cloud muttered. “I mean… usually it’s _always_ human error, so we really should have known better. I guess we're both dumb.” He huffed and shook his head, mumbling, “I was so sure though…”

“You ‘n’ me both, buddy.” Zack switched the television off, leaving a faint buzzing behind. “What a disappointment.” He rolled over, reached under the bed and produced his overflowing box of stuffed toy dogs. “So, which one’ll it be?”

Cloud watched warily. “Neither of us won.”

“Well,” Zack shrugged with one shoulder, “consider this a consolation prize.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

Zack carefully tipped the dogs out on his blanketed lap, the various breeds of varying sizes spilled and rolled all over. “I want you to have one, so choose.”

A tingle went down Cloud’s spine. He looked at Zack, who gave him a Cheshire’s grin. Cloud resigned himself to Zack’s will and sifted through the toys, thinking about which one he might like.

Zack picked up a couple. “Maybe a dalmatian? Or a schnauzer? A dachshund?” He picked them up and began juggling them. “Or a german shepherd? Maybe an akita!” Zack added them to his juggling act.

Cloud watched on, huffing out a laugh. Zack _had_ gotten better.

He returned his attention to the different breeds. His eyes caught on one particular toy dog. He wondered if he could ask— _should_ ask for that one. Would Zack let him? He wanted to try. Even just to stir him up.

“This one. I’m taking this one,” feeling a little bit cheeky he picked up the small beagle, patting its head.

Zack gasped and dropped the toys, one of which hit him on his head and bounced. “Not Pumpkin!”

Cloud smirked. “Yes, Pumpkin.”

Zack looked stricken. Cloud felt bad. He put the toy dog back down on the bed. “I’m only joking. I’ll take the german shepherd.” He picked it up, lightly squishing its middle.

“No. You wanted Pumpkin so you should have her.” Zack grabbed the toy and held it out to Cloud.

Zack’s willingness to part with it made Cloud smile and filled him with radiant warmth. “It’s really okay. I like this one. It reminds me of my dog, Chance.”

“No, no,” Zack shook his head. “You keep her—”

“No, it’s okay,” Cloud interjected, slightly irritated.

“No, really. It’s fine. She’s dying to see the outside world anyway. Please take her with you and show her a park.”

Cloud laughed at the ridiculousness of that request, yet it was simultaneously very sweet and endearing… and a tiny bit tragic. He smiled and took the beagle from Zack’s hand. “Okay. I’ll keep her safe and show her a good time— _but_ , I’m bringing her back to you. She’s just going on a vacation with me. I’ll keep the german shepherd. Deal?"

Zack’s trademark broad grin sat on full display. “Deal. I can live with that.”

“Good,” Cloud smiled. “I’ll get you that box of kisses the next time I come over.” The well of embarrassment over his own words suddenly overcame him and snuffed out the smile. His mind returned to the possibility of kissing Zack. His stomach twisted. Nausea welled.

“Aww, you don’t have to get me anything,” Zack waved off, still smiling.

“No, I want to. As you said—a consolation prize.”

Zack hummed, thinking about it before dark blue eyes turned back toward Cloud, “You’ll share the kisses with me, right?”

The buzzing inside intensified. Cloud nodded whilst wishing the confectionary had any other name.

The grin exploded across Zack’s face. “Awesome. Okay then. Deal.” He held out his hand.

Cloud looked at the gesture which was meant to cement their deal. His hands felt clammy, a lump sat in his throat. He didn’t know how he felt about physical contact with Zack. Maybe… _fragile?_ Like his body would betray him at any moment, though he didn’t know how that would manifest itself, or what feelings he should be so worried about. He inhaled slow and deep, put the beagle in his lap—and discreetly wiped his palm on his jeans in the process—and took Zack’s hand, shaking it.

The exchange was brief, the shake strong and confident on Zack’s behalf—stronger than what his body looked capable of producing. The warmth of Zack’s touch ghosted on Cloud’s skin even as he retracted his hand. His palms grew even sweatier. He needed to leave and made a show of looking at his watch face. “I’d better go.”

“Sure. I wish you'd stay though,” Zack lamented. 

A throbbing discomfort ripped through Cloud. His defensiveness against… he didn’t even know _what,_ reared its head, and he blurted out, “Don’t forget you still need to talk to a psychologist. Get some real help. Talking to me won’t fix things.”

The desired distance was put in place between them: Zack shrunk away a fraction and a hint of a scowl tugged at his lips. “What _actually_ happened to you? Why were you really gone for a week?” he bit back with a fierce scowl.

Cloud huffed and ground his teeth. “I crashed out pretty hard because of adrenal fatigue. Remember? I told you.”

A softness crept into Zack’s face and rounded out his words, “How bad was it?”

Irritated over Zack’s immaturity, and wanting to make a final point, Cloud went into full-disclosure, “Pretty bad. I couldn’t get up to do anything. Tifa had to come over to make sure I ate.”

“When I spoke to her she said she didn't know where you were. You didn’t call her?” It _almost_ sounded like an accusation from Zack.

Cloud’s jaw jutted with the pursing of his lips. “I couldn’t call. I couldn’t get up. And then my phone went dead.”

A sigh fell out of Zack and concern skewed his brows. “Damn. Buddy. I’m sorry. That sounds awful. Is it usually like that?”

Cloud huffed, willing himself to be less affronted. He had gone to this place with Zack. At least now he could tell him what he really wanted to get at, “Sometimes it’s less severe than other times. I got hit pretty hard this time around. But Tifa knows what’s going on for me. I’ve asked her to check on me if I disappear. I asked for help. I might still be in my bed if she didn’t come over.”

Zack, like a guilty puppy, looked away: at his toy dogs, his legs. He began collecting the scattered stuffed toys and putting them back in their box.

A heaviness grew in Cloud’s chest, especially as Zack struggled to reach the toys that had rolled further away than his reach would allow to grab. Cloud stuffed the german shepherd and beagle into his pants pockets, got up, and gingerly picked up the out-of-reach toys, placing them back in their box. “It doesn’t hurt to ask for help,” he said quietly.

“That’s a lesson I don’t learn easily,” Zack muttered.

Their fingertips grazed as they both reached for the same toy which lay in the blanketed valley between Zack’s legs. They looked at each other, both holding on to the soft dog. Zack let go and leaned back against his pillows with a heavy breath seeping out of his throat. Cloud picked up the toy, for the first time noticing that Zack’s legs didn’t look as blocky as they had before. “Did you get your cast and bandages off?”

“Huh? Ah… yeah. A few days ago,” Zack said, no energy in his voice.

"You don't sound happy.” Cloud dropped the dog into the box, and then stowed it under the bed.

“No. I _am_ happy. It’s just… everything that’s going on… with the storm and… the mental thing—”

“PTSD,” Cloud corrected, rising to his full height.

With a wavering glance and a heaviness to his voice, Zack said, “This is hard for me. Being…” he exhaled a deep breath, “at the mercy of others is hard. I’m _stronger_ than needing other people. I can get through this by myself, because it’s _me_ that’s affected, no one else. No one else can fix this for me.”

Cloud sat down, the weight inside his chest like a crushing anvil. “Have you ever been through something like this before?” he asked slowly.

A wrinkle of distaste crossed Zack’s face. “No.”

Cloud looked at the now-deflated man. He hated Zack’s pride at that moment. This is what military-types were all like. Cloud wrinkled his nose. The tempo of his heart curtailed the annoyance though. He wanted to help Zack. “Do you know how to drive a car?”

“Huh?”

“Do you _know_ how to drive a _car?”_ Cloud reiterated patiently.

“Yeah?”

“Were you born with the ability to drive a car?”

“N-no…” Zack looked at Cloud, wariness in his gaze.

“So how come you can drive one now?”

“I learned.”

“How did you learn?”

“I sat behind the wheel and did the driving.”

Cloud fought against the eye-roll and instead cocked an eyebrow at Zack. “Did you have someone instructing you?”

 _“Oh,”_ Zack drawled as if the penny might actually drop. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, your current situation is like driving a car. You never knew how to drive one until someone taught you. You've never been in a situation like this before, with your PTSD, I mean.”

Zack shook his head. 

“Exactly. So you don’t know the first thing about how to look after yourself when you’ve got this. Psychologists and therapists can help you learn how to deal with it. They give you the tools so you can fix yourself."

Zack still frowned.

Cloud presses his lips together, annoyed over Zack's stubbornness. "You wouldn’t perform surgery on yourself, now would you? You’d go to a surgeon for that.”

“Well, _actually_ , I’ve had to suture and perform first aid out in the field—on myself and others.”

Cloud had to admit that he’d totally walked into that one. “But you get the main point, don’t you?” he said, refocusing.

“Yeah,” Zack mumbled, eyes downcast.

“Get some help, Zack.” Cloud stood up, feeling drained. “I'll be back in a few days.” He walked around the foot of the bed and aimed for the door, but halted before he got too far from Zack’s side—monkey sounds drifted to his ears. He bit down the smile, slowly turned, and cocked an eyebrow at the bed-ridden man, who continued to make the pathetic-sounding animal noises, whilst his arms stretched out wide.

Zack’s ridiculous calls didn’t stop. He got louder and made grabby hands in Cloud’s direction.

Begrudging his intense feelings of joy over what was about to happen, Cloud shuffled back to Zack’s side, leaned in and got wrapped up in a tight and warm embrace, which he reciprocated. He hid his smile on the top of Zack’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. Zack gave the best hugs. It was undeniable.

Cloud lingered in the contact, wondering if Zack would pull away… curious to know if Zack would _ever_ be the first to let go. The man squeezed his arms around Cloud tighter with the passing seconds. 

“You make this monkey so very happy,” Zack breathed out and it tickled against Cloud’s ear.

The words dropped into Cloud’s stomach, and he felt himself sinking deeper against Zack. The thought of a kiss drifted across his mind. Cloud pulled away, hating how heated his cheeks felt. He waved and turned quickly to hide his face and headed for the door, with a very casual, “Bye,” thrown over his shoulder.

“See ya later, buddy. Don’t forget to look after Pumpkin!”

Cloud pulled the mentioned toy from his pocket as he got to the door, and waved the little paw at Zack. “Will do.”

They smiled at each other, and Cloud left with the soft toys in his pockets and his end of the bargain rooting its way deep into his mind.

He went back to work, dropping off the van and clocking off. He stopped by the supermarket, getting Zack’s requested-for prize, which roused heat inside himself. He berated himself the whole way home while the wind whipped against his face as he rode his bike. It did nothing to cool his burning cheeks.

The thought of _liking_ Zack irked him. Not because Zack was unattractive—not because he was stuck in hospital or had unresolved issues—but because… because… he couldn’t let it happen… not _ag—_ he left that thought at the door as he entered his small apartment and unwound from his day.

He put Pumpkin and Chance on his dining table, re-heated some of the soup he still had left in the freezer, and watched TV: the news mostly until he realized what he was looking for and then switched to something more mindless and unspecific.

After his meal, he tried to relax but Pumpkin watching him with her beady glass eyes, next to the box of _Kisses,_ unsettled Cloud too much. He took the things into his bedroom, with the aim to bury them in the bottom of his chest of drawers. He pulled it open and got smacked in the face with a vision of Zack’s clothes, which he’d stowed away down there about a month ago, on the day he’d gotten drenched and had nothing else to wear but Zack’s things.

A nervous excitement buzzed around Cloud’s body. He gingerly pulled out the red t-shirt and… lifted it to his face, taking a whiff. It was faint, but Zack’s scent still clung to it. He threw the shirt back in the drawer, along with the box of chocolates and Pumpkin.

He buried his feelings away deep down. He was just tired—out of sorts—still rattled and vaguely raw from having talked to Zack about all the _inside stuff_ about a week ago. The discomfort would go away eventually if he just ignored it hard enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song! Chapter SONG! [As You Fall by Bent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYwpUt0JoMc).
> 
> I hope it's apparent that Zack flirting with Cloud's _finally_ getting through his thick skull and leaving _thoughts_ in there 😏
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated. I love knowing others are excited about this.
> 
> Oh, I forgot to mention - I'm running a fanfic raffle give-away thing over on my twitter, where I'll write someone a short story of their choosing if you follow and like [the tweet as linked here](https://twitter.com/creampudding_/status/1298371906752528384). Just in case anyone's interested. Raffel entries close 6th September!


	9. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud finds Zack in a very dark place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d liken this chapter to the beginning of a rollercoaster: you’ll be going up and up in joy, all the while seeing the red flags of the massive drop that’s ahead and then… oh boy, it’s just one very sharp and rapid descent into madness.
> 
> Bit unorthodox but… chapter song at the _start_ just to help… set the mood. I’ll link it again at the bottom though too. [Bad Weather by The Rubens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhHhYoCf214&ab_channel=TheRubens).
> 
> Heed the chapter title and summary as your warnings. And in addition: mental health issues, physical health issues, suicidal ideation talk, heated arguments, angry crying, swearing, throwing slights, throwing limbs (not the prosthetic kind), and generally speaking two idiots not talking properly to each other. 
> 
> I am so sorry 😖 (and also not sorry)
> 
> * _straps you in_ * Let's begin...

Cloud returned to Zack's room several days after their silly bet, carrying a bag and a hypo-allergic flower arrangement. He knocked and opened the door. 

"Cloud! Hey. You mind giving me a min?" Zack asked, his head poking out from behind a man dressed in a white robe.

"Yeah. Sure. Sorry." Cloud retreated and waited outside in the corridor for a while, sitting on the bench close to Zack’s door. He carefully set down the flowers next to himself. He looked out of the large floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hall, while gently swinging the paper bag between his legs. He still debated with himself if he shouldn’t have packed Zack’s spare clothes in along with the Kisses and Pumpkin. It surely wouldn’t have been weird to return them now, right? A month after the fact? It was surely weirder to keep the clothes—Zack had never asked for them back. He probably had completely forgotten and wouldn't need them. Returning them now would only draw attention to the fact that Cloud still had them. 

Cloud frowned at the floor. He’d donate the clothes eventually. Wait to see if Zack remembered and when he inevitably didn’t, Cloud would get rid of them. It wasn’t strange, or weird. Thankfully, Cloud was pulled out of his berating thoughts when the man, who was clearly a doctor, came out of Zack's room, carrying a clipboard. Cloud went to get up but on seeing two men in uniform round the corner and stop the doctor to speak with him, Cloud sank back down to his seat.

He wasn't too far away so he caught vague words as the men spoke in hushed tones while the doctor flipped through charts, showing them things.

"———worst-case scenarios———best———strong course of antibiotics———dement and cleaning———keep———spreading———. 

One of the military men spoke, in a very low hush which Cloud couldn’t make anything out from.

The doctor spoke again, “———monitoring him, but———act immediately. Zack's ———watch and wait———risks———worst-case———team will step in."

It was like a knife twisted in Cloud’s stomach. His hands grew cold and sweaty. He tried hard not to look over at the small group talking, but it made it harder to catch the fleeting words—

“———full report.”

The doctor shook his head. "———exploring———interventions."

The military men nodded, murmured their goodbyes and went toward Zack's room while the doctor left. Cloud shot his gaze down to inspect the contents of the bag at his feet as the men came close and entered the room.

A great buzzing and nervous energy sat in Cloud’s chest. He wanted to throw up and couldn’t sit still any longer. Leaving the bag and plant on the bench, he got up and paced while he waited for the men to leave. Was this one of the things Zack had talked about, that day after the big storm… of things getting worse for him? Of him not healing—his legs? Cloud stopped in his tracks. They must be talking about Zack’s legs. The sick feeling welled up like a tremendous wave. He headed, with purpose, down the hall to find a restroom so he could throw up or at least splash some water on his face. He caught sight of Bernice at the nurses station filling up kidney-shaped bowls full of medication and veered off to speak with her, hoping to get something informative or illuminating from her. 

“Hello Bernice.”

She looked at Cloud over her glasses. “Strife, what is it I can do for you?” She sounded like Cloud’s mere presence was a mighty inconvenience.

It didn’t deter Cloud. "How is Zack doing?"

"The same as usual," she said, without looking away from where she checked the bowls of medicine against her charts. 

Cloud assumed one of those bowls was for Zack, since it was getting to that time of the evening. "I heard the doctor say something about a worst-case scenario?"

She looked over at him then.

"What does it mean?" He clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

A very disconcerting softness cut through Bernice's stone-cold façade, smoothing out some of the deep wrinkles her usual scowl held in place. "You should know better than to ask me. If you want to know you need to speak with Mr. Fair.”

Cloud grunted, frustrated. He caught sight of the men leaving Zack's room and shrunk in on himself with his gaze averted as they passed. When they had gone, Cloud pushed off the counter and hurried to Zack's room, picking up his things from the bench before he entered.

"Hey, buddy!" Zack sang out, much like nothing was amiss. "Sorry for sending you back out. I had a physical exam."

Cloud walked around, putting the flowers on the kitchen counter as he passed on his way to the guest chair on the left. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked as he went to his seat by the bed and placed the bag on the ground beside him. He stared at Zack intently. 

Zack gave him a funny look before he started laughing. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I was sitting outside and heard your doctor say something about a worst-case scenario and you haven't had the military here in a long time, but they were outside too."

Zack laughed louder and waved his hand about, "Wow, man, you need to relax and stop shaking," Zack leaned toward Cloud, placing his hand on top of Cloud’s where he gripped the bedrail tightly. Zack worked his fingers underneath Cloud’s and pried his hand off the metal bar.

Cloud looked down at the warm touch and hand hold. 

"You’re freezing," Zack commented. “Are you okay?”

Cloud grimaced. He felt it then—stress coursing through him; his body trembling; his heart racing. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. He knew he'd crash hard if he didn't relax. "I'm okay. Tell me what's going on," he redirected, pulling his hand out of Zack's firm grasp.

Zack gave him a skeptical glance. "I'm fine. Of course the doc's always gotta give you a worst-case just so I can consent to stuff ahead of time, if—" Zack said loudly, cutting off Cloud's panicked interjection, “—something were to happen. It won't though. It's fine. I've got the finest medical team working on it and the best drugs. Relax," he laughed again.

Yet Zack's confidence didn't chase away the grimace on Cloud's face. "Even if it's not bad… what's happening?"

"It's just my legs. It's nothing. It's fine." Zack waved his hand about.

Cloud looked at the limbs hidden under the covers and wondered why Zack was so relaxed about it when a week ago he’d made it sound like his world was ending. “Zack—”

"Hey, I wanna show you something," Zack turned to the right and grabbed something off the tray table. He held out the thick card to Cloud.

Cloud took it and turned it over, “Oh."

"It's the photo Kunsel took of us, remember?"

"Yeah." How could he not?

"It's real nice, don't you think?" Zack pulled himself over to Cloud's side, leaning over the guardrails of his bed to get closer. 

Cloud shifted and held the large print-out up before them. "Yeah, it is." It really was. Zack looked happy and admittedly healthier than he currently did. Cloud's body still remembered the close proximity. Zack presently leaning so close served as another reminder of it.

"You're trying to distract me from the question I asked you," Cloud observed, handing the photo back.

Zack grinned. "I'm trying to distract you from needlessly worrying about me. Everything's under control. So, what's in the bag you brought in? More flowers?"

"Oh," Cloud leaned down. Zack watched expectantly. "Here's the box of chocolates," he handed it to Zack, feeling his cheeks heat up over the mere gesture.

Zack's whole face lit up. "Wow, thanks. You'll share them with me, right?"

Cloud nodded even as Zack ripped into the packaging and produced the foil-wrapped drops, handing one to Cloud and opening one for himself.

Cloud took it and his mind screamed about sharing kisses with Zack but them not being that kind and how disapoi—he didn't care. "I also brought back Pumpkin." He pulled the beagle out of the bag and sat it on the bed.

Zack picked it up and rubbed it against his face in a tiny cuddle.

Seeing a grown-assed man cuddling a small plush dog made Cloud smile and think about how dumb and cute Zack was. 

Zack caught Cloud staring and turned on the Cheshire’s grin. "How'd it go? Did you show her a park?"

Cloud nodded and dug around in his bag, producing an envelope. "Here."

“Oohh.” Zack took it. "What's this?" He carefully pulled the flap open.

"Photos."

Zack's face bathed in shock and awe and his eyes darted to look between Cloud and the envelope in his hands. “You took photos? Oh my God, Cloud, c’mere!” He lurched forward hooking his arm around Cloud’s neck and pulled him into an embrace.

Cloud chuckled and muffled against Zack’s chest, “It was nothing.”

Zack squeezed him tighter and hummed with pure joy. “Don’t be so modest. You went above and beyond your duty. This is amazing!” Zack let go and settled back against the bed, pulling out the small photographic prints.

Definite joy coursed through Cloud over his efforts being immensely appreciated. He leaned in and walked Zack through the images of the stuffed dog having breakfast, riding the motorcycle—

“You ride a bike?” Zack gaped.

“Yeah.”

Zack stared with parted lips and his cheeks tinted a darker shade.

The prolonged stare made Cloud look away, though he asked, “What?”

Zack blinked out of his stupor and shook his head. “N-nothing. You’re super cool!” He returned his attention to the photographs and Cloud went back to explaining and walking Zack through the process of taking Pumpkin to visit a local park where he’d posed the toy on the slide, swings, climbing equipment, sitting on a bench, and in the grass. 

Cloud's heart raced ever faster as he told Zack all the embarrassing and dumb things he had gotten up to. He had felt so stupid, even though he had gone to take these photos at a quiet time of the day, before work. He felt tired just thinking about the effort that he’d exerted by having gotten up so early.

But the embarrassment factor aside, it wasn't the only reason his heart raced. The way Zack's eyes shone, the way he laughed, the way he leaned close: their arms rubbing together, his warm breath brushing against Cloud's cheek at times—it all lodged in his chest.

He tried to stay focused on the task at hand: walking Zack through the remaining photos of the return journey and the toy getting tucked into bed.

Zack laughed so hard and wiped at his eyes, after which he pulled Cloud into a fierce hug. "Thank you. This is just what I needed today."

Cloud quietly reciprocated the hug, squeezing the other man before pulling away.

Zack wiped his eyes again with the heel of his palm and took some calming breaths. He looked through the photos again as he chewed on his nail and wiped at his eyes some more.

The happiness Cloud had felt slipped away. "Are you sure everything is alright?" Heknew it wasn’t. It irritated him that Zack put that wall up again.

"I'm just tired. You know how that gets, don't you?" Zack smiled a little too pointedly.

Cloud scowled ever so slightly but softly asked, "Did you speak with someone yet?"

Zack’s chest deflated. He looked down at the photos he held. "You really own a motorcycle?"

"Zack," Cloud gently admonished.

Zack scoffed and looked at the photos for some time longer. 

Cloud's mood sullied the longer Zack stalled. He wondered what he should or could say. Pushing Zack felt like the wrong move. He thought of the old adage about leading a horse to water… he wondered what he’d need—or could do—to make Zack drink.

There came a knock at the door, causing both men's attention to turn toward it. Bernice walked in.

"Hello, lovely lady,” Zack sang.

She gave both men a curt nod and walked over to give Zack his shots.

"Um, Cloud."

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you to go? I'm feeling pretty tired."

"Oh, sure." Cloud made to get up rather stiffly, feeling weird about being kicked out.

"Ah, sorry Bernie—Cloud, before you go, could I ask a favor?"

"Yeah?" Cloud lowered himself again, even as Bernice seemed annoyed, glaring at her clipboard and scribbling something furiously.

"Could you take this with you and get it framed for me? Nothing fancy. I'd just like it behind glass for safe keeping." Zack held out the photograph to him.

Cloud’s chest inflated with a deep breath. He took it and quietly uttered, "Sure."

"Thanks, bud!" Zack pulled the blankets down and his shirt up so Bernice could inject him with the seemingly ever-increasing cocktail of drugs.

Cloud moved away.

"Oh, here, have another kiss before you go."

That wording sent a jolt through Cloud. He looked around to see Zack holding out another chocolate. He took it from Zack with a small smile and a quiet, "Thanks," and headed out to the sound of Zack chatting a mile a minute at Bernice, offering her kisses and sounding very amused over it while also excitedly talking about his beagles adventures.

A strange mixed-up and confusing see-saw of emotions ran through Cloud as he headed through and out of the hospital. But the overriding sense he was left with was one of dread.

### 

Days passed. Cloud struggled to get to sleep, especially in the summer heat. He had a couple of close calls getting to work late and once nodded off at a traffic stop. He hooked himself up with No-Doze and extra strength coffee and continued on with his daily affairs while trying to manage his stress; a lot of it tied up with worrying about Zack so there seemed no end in sight.

Aerith had no jobs for Cloud, so he took it upon himself to visit Zack without an ulterior motive. Though, he supposed he did have one—the framed photograph. He had gotten it framed the day after Zack had made his request, but Cloud had waited day in, day out, for a flower delivery to the hospital, which never came. So Cloud had waited more, taking the frame out of his van and back to his house where it stood on his dining table, leaning against the wall. Cloud looked at it over his meals, which he barely enjoyed because of the ball of tension steadily growing bigger and harder in his gut.

He decided to take matters in his own hands to check on Zack, under the guise of returning the framed photograph—never mind that it was the weekend. He really couldn’t stand to wait another day to see if maybe hopefully he got the green-light from work as a valid excuse to visit.

He got on his bike, secured the frame in a bag, and headed off. 

At the hospital, he beelined for Zack’s room, knocked, and was greeted with an exhausted-sounding, “Hey, Cloud,” before he even opened the door.

“Hey,” Cloud said, poking his head in. 

“What’re you doing here? It’s Sunday,” Zack said.

Cloud stopped in the doorway and stared at Zack. Maybe the culprit had been the endless days of staring at the frozen image of joyous, full-of-life Zack Fair in the photograph, or maybe Cloud’s memory failed him completely, but when he saw Zack, the man looked incredibly unwell, and tired, and scruffy.

“I, ah… came to bring you this,” he said, restarting his brain and entered the room properly, closing the door before he rushed to Zack’s side. He pulled the frame out of the bag and set it on the little tray table for Zack to see, while he kept his eyes glued onto the other man.

"Oh wow, that looks great! Thanks for doing this for me!" The smile Zack wore appeared thin, accentuating the hollows of his cheeks and the bags under his eyes.

"Wish I could say the same about you. You look terrible."

“Not a fan of facial hair?” Zack rubbed his scratchy-looking chin.

“It’s more like… everything else on top of that.”

"You are such a smooth talker, Mr. Strife.” Zack laughed in such a way that actually seemed to put light in his eyes again for a brief moment.

Cloud remained stone-faced, but softly said, "How are you?"

Zack squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long, exasperated sigh. "It's all the medication. It's knocking me for six."

"Have you spoken to your doctors?"

Dull, dark blue eyes sprung open and Zack glared up at Cloud. "Of course,” he said, a little sharp.

A tension sat between them. An air of danger and aggravated upset. It alarmed Cloud. He hated this feeling of helplessness. Clearly, something colossal had happened. Cloud could only draw one conclusion: "How is the PTSD? Have you talked to anyone about that?"

Zack blew out a gust of air from his nose. "Again with that?" He looked ahead of himself. 

"You need to do something. It's not going to go away by itself!" Cloud pleaded.

Zack’s mouth flung open—he sucked in some air and swallowed down whatever had threatened to just about burst out. "Can we please just… not go there? Not today. You wanna watch something?"

Cloud, irritated and grumpy, frowned. They stared at each other. Zack waggled the remote to enforce his question. Cloud shook his head. He didn’t want to sit around with Zack in a foul mood. Something about being in the room felt suffocating. "Have you been outside lately?"

"No."

"Do you want me to take you?"

The edge of a sneer left Zack at the mention of that. A familiar warmth softened his face. "Yeah."

That was all Cloud needed to hear. He went out into the corridor, checked if it was okay to move Zack, and got the greenlight.

"But he has to take the drip stand."

Cloud gave a confused look, not having noticed Zack being attached to a drip until he came back into the room with the wheelchair.

"Bernice said we need to take your drip with you."

Zack looked over his shoulder, casting a wary glance up and behind the bedhead where the item in question stood. "Sure.”

"Since when did you get put on that?" Cloud wheeled the chair to the side of the bed and moved the drip stand on its wheeled legs out a little.

"Ah… a few days after you left last week." Zack didn’t look at Cloud. He poured all his focus into lowering the bed railing.

"Is everything alright?" Cloud asked again.

"Yeah, yeah,” Zack said, irritation hastening his words. “C'mon, help me.” He lowered the bed railing with a loud clunk and shuffled to the edge of the bed, dragging his legs. He flung the sheets aside revealing long tracksuit pants and his feet heavily bandaged.

Cloud stared, a deep disquiet stirring nauseous feelings.

“Cloud,” Zack snapped his fingers in Cloud’s direction. Cloud returned his attention to the man’s face. The scowl Zack wore vanished and he gave an empty smile. “I thought I was the one supposed to be spacing out. C’mon, help me,” he finished with the slightest growl in his voice.

"I thought you weren't a baby,” Cloud retorted, trying to ignore the chastened feeling.

Zack huffed and laughed sharply, sounding a little manic. Perturbed, Cloud helped Zack and after some careful maneuvering, the other man was in the chair. Cloud got him a blanket and wheeled Zack out of the room, while the man held and pushed along the drip stand he was attached to.

Cloud didn’t know what to say. An uncomfortably thick tension constricted his throat. It was made worse by how silent Zack stayed. There was no banter between them. Cloud seriously hoped that a change of scenery would do them both some good.

The elevator ride up seemed to last forever. The corridors leading to the garden felt unreasonably long. Finally they got out though—the sun was beginning its descent into the horizon, casting long shadows and coloring the very air in orange hues. A slight breeze blew but that didn’t take the sting out of the hot summer humidity.

Thankfully, the roof space wasn’t too crowded. Cloud wheeled Zack around for a while. They listened to the buzzing of insects, the trickling of water, and the ticking of the wheelchair as it traveled along the pavement, occasionally crunching against a rock, or a leaf, or a stick.

“Do you want to look at anything specifically?” Cloud asked in the vain hope of a response. All he received was the shake of Zack’s head. His heart felt close to breaking. Had he caused this complete shut down? Was it something else? Was it this ‘worst-case scenario’? Was Zack going to be okay? Fear gripped and almost crippled Cloud. 

He wandered about the garden aimlessly, looking for something to distract them both, searching for something to ease the dreadful feelings inside himself, but also the mood he could feel radiating out of Zack. He took Zack through the small hedge maze, past the fountains where some children played, all the while Zack showed no reaction. With each step Cloud took, his stomach dropped a little further and his throat tightened harder.

After a prolonged silence and Zack not commenting on anything which was pointed out to him, Cloud had enough and wheeled them both to a low sandstone retaining wall where he could sit, and which was also shaded by a broad-leafed tree.

“I’ll get us something to drink. You got a preference?” He looked down at Zack, who harbored a far-away stare and a dull expression.

“Zack?” Cloud said, stepping closer.

No response.

“Zack,” he whispered, putting his hand on Zack’s boney shoulder.

Zack flinched, raised his head, and greeted Cloud with rapid blinks. A surprised sounding, “Hm?” left him and a hollow smile flashed. 

“You want a drink?”

“Yeah, whatever will be fine, thanks.”

Cloud left, deeply disturbed. He hoped some alone time in a natural space would lift Zack’s mood somewhat. He took his time getting back into the hospital and perused several vending machines to see what different wares they had before choosing one in particular. But Cloud’s mind was predominantly on Zack. Something was wrong, he knew that much. He wished Zack would share it with him. 

Having decided on what beverages to purchase, he swiped his card, inputted the numbers and got the drinks out of the vending machine. He ambled back to the garden, heading up the stairs and down the corridor to the large double doors. A scurrying and panting sounded up ahead. Near an offshoot to another corridor Cloud came face to face with a man who had a golden labrador on a leash.

"Excuse me," Cloud said, stepping aside, receiving a smile.

"You're alright." The man continued on. Cloud stared after the dog, then called out, "Is that a therapy dog?"

The man turned around, smiling, "Yes."

The gears in Cloud's head turned. "How do I go about booking a visit from a therapy dog for someone?"

"The dogs are only for patients entered into specific programs. You can ask the reception for the details, or if the person you are thinking of is in here you can ask the head of whatever department is looking after them if they are eligible to be seen."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They both went on their way, but Cloud turned around after a few steps, asking loudly, "Are there any beagles?"

"Yes," the man said, having turned around again, and the dog looking at Cloud like it was exhausted from all the stopping and starting.

"Thanks! I won't keep you any longer," Cloud said, and hurried back toward the double glass doors, though he did slow down again before he reached the entry, mindful of giving Zack space.

* * *

Cloud took the scenic tour around the garden before making his way back to Zack, who predictably was in the same location Cloud had left him in. Zack looked broody, which Cloud found to be an odd expression on the usually jovial man’s face. There was a scowl and Zack alternated between rubbing the shin of his right leg and picking at the cannula inserted into his left hand.

Cloud gave pause. Zack didn’t notice him at all as he stood a little to the left of him. He thought about what he should say, how far he should or could push things. It wasn't his business. The fact that Zack didn’t want to tell him irritated him a little though. 

He kept observing, noting the wastage in Zack’s limbs, the pastiness of his skin, the roughness of his face. Zack picked at his scar on his cheek. His brows furrowed and—he rested his arms on the wheelchair’s armrests as if he was… about to… 

Cloud closed the distance between them. “Hey, here’s your soda,” he said, holding out the colorful can.

Zack irked as he startled.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered, still holding out one of the cans to him.

“Thanks.”

Cloud sat down on the sandstone retaining wall at Zack’s side. “What are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s nice outside. Thanks for taking me.” Zack looked over his shoulder at Cloud before staring at the cold drink in his own hands. A bit of relief cracked the hard tension inside of Cloud. The outdoors seemed to be having the desired effect on Zack. “Have you been out since I first took you up here?” The thought of Zack cooped up inside made Cloud sad.

Zack hummed. “I’ve been up here a couple of times with my folks when the weather hasn’t been completely shit.”

“Ah, okay.”

Zack pursed his lips and cracked open his can. Cloud did likewise and both men sat quietly and drank.

The breeze came and went. The sound of the traffic below drifted in and out. The insects buzzed. This was such a special place, and yet… it didn’t feel as revitalizing to Cloud as the last time they had been up here together. The last time had been different. Zack had felt different. “How’re you doing?” he asked, finding the pensive quiet from Zack unnerving. 

An agitated, grumbling, “Great. Just great," came out of Zack.

Cloud frowned deeply. "You know, I saw a therapy dog down the hall. I can—"

"Can what?" Zack snapped with a jerk of his head toward Cloud. Narrowed, piercing eyes glared at him. "You can what exactly, Cloud?” he practically spat. “Get me one? What's a dog supposed to do for me, Cloud?" The patronizing, contemptuous way Zack said his name completely flattened Cloud.

“I just thought it might do you some good. Help you relax so you can maybe talk—”

“No! What’ll do me some good is if you stop pestering me about my fucking mental health and harassing me to talk to people all the fucking time.” Zack’s face contorted and twisted with a disgusted grimace. His hand trembled on his lap, and he crunched the can so tight that liquid spilled out. But Zack didn’t care or notice. 

Cloud leaned back, his body feeling stiff and his pulse rushing through his body. He wasn’t sure what had brought this on and he didn’t like the buzzing in his limbs. He stammered, “I… I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to annoy you.”

“Like fuck you don’t.” The anger in Zack’s eyes intensified and his knuckles turned white as he clutched the metal IV-drip stand. “The way you carry on—every second word out of your goddamn mouth is asking me if I’ve spoken to someone. I’m fucking talking to you! Isn’t that enough? Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone? I’m trying my hardest to stay positive and you come waltzing in like you’re mister know-it-all, always reminding me how I'm not all here and telling me what I should do. You’re not my fucking doctor, Cloud. You’re just a fucking hypocrite.”

Cloud blinked. His world ground to a halt and his mouth dried up as heat welled in his chest. “E-excuse me?”

“You’re one hell of a hy-po-crit!” Zack swayed his head for emphasis and his lips curled with a snarl. “Stop acting so high and mighty. Stop acting like you’re better than me. You’re not! You’re messed up. Just ‘cause you’re not in a hospital doesn’t make you a shining example of how to deal with problems. You get sick and go missing for days and never tell anyone but somehow me not talking to a psyche is your biggest concern? Fuck you, man! And I don’t care that you have an uncle who is fucked up. I don’t care about the people in your family. It doesn't give you an instant insight into my life. And I definitely don't care about your platitudes. Stop lording your fake wellness over me like you’re better than me.” A tremble went through Zack and into the IV-stand which he still clutched.

Cloud could hardly breathe through the shocking verbal attack. His mind tried to latch onto something to say. His mouth flapped. “I-I’m sorry… that you feel that way…. A-are you okay?”

Zack roared! “Stop. Asking me. That!” He threw the almost-full can on the ground. Cloud yelped. He jumped up, knocking over his own can. 

“Fuck,” Cloud muttered and tiptoed around the rolling cans as they spewed forth bubbling sugary liquid all over the pavement. He refocused and glared at, “Zack!” he snapped. His heart revved and hammered over the erupting anger out of the other man.

“Stop with all your questions!” Zack fumed. “Stop asking me if I’m okay! I’m not. Clearly, I’m so fucking not. And you know it! So why can’t you stop asking me that shit? You're supposed to be here to make me feel better, not fucking baby me! I’m trying real fucking hard to hold it together but here you are every fucking second reminding me that my life is this now,” he flung out his splayed-open hands, gesturing at the wheelchair and his legs, “and you do it in that god awful fucking voice, and that tone!”

“What tone?” Cloud asked, breathless. Where was this all coming from? Had all of Zack’s niceness been disingenuous? Had he felt like this the entire time? Had he faked everything? And if so, why? Cloud stared, wide-eyed.

“That disgusted pitying tone. Why the fuck are you even here?"

Cloud took a stumbling step backward. He looked down at one of the cans he’d bumped which sent out a metallic scrape. The garden felt too quiet. The air too thick. Cloud looked back up at Zack, whose face was red with rage and his arms trembled as he clutched the wheelchair armrests.

Cloud swallowed. Blood rushed in his ears and he blinked rapidly, trying to focus and keep the black flecks out of his vision. “What do you mean?” he asked, stiff as a board.

“Why. The fuck. Are you. Here?” Zack repeated, leaning into his words. “Do you get off on seeing me like this? Do you get off on other people’s misery?”

“What? No!” Cloud’s limbs turned icy cold, even in the humid summer heat. “Why… why…”

“Why are you always on me when I’m trying to be fucking happy? Or chill? Or just okay with the shitty hand I’ve been dealt? Why’re you always shitting on everything I try and do to take my mind off of being here? You don't respect me. You don't even like me!" 

“No… I…” There were too many things in Cloud’s head, and in Zack’s words. “W-why don't you think… I like you?" The shock subsided. Anger roused over being taken for granted. "I've done so much shit for you. I'm like your errand boy. You don't hear me complain about it."

"Guess what, buddy, you just fucking did," Zack spat. "Why are you even here? Answer me!” he bellowed, smacking his fist against the arm of the wheelchair. He trembled and expectantly glared at Cloud, his face drawing together: lips pursed, nostrils flared, eyes narrowing and shimmering with gathering tears. Zack’s chest barely rose and fell, almost like he waited with bated breath.

Cloud didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Zack wanted to hear—why he kept asking… Cloud didn't know what he could possibly say to soothe Zak—to heal the unfathomable hurt. "I’m… I’m here because…” Why was he here? “Because…” He cared. He liked Zack. It hurt to see the man hurting. “I… I want to help you.”

Zack squeezed his eyes shut and he curled into himself. The tears fell. He took a deep inhale of breath and thumped the armrest again, biting, “You’re such an asshole! Stop playing with—” he shook his head, and threw a daggered glare at Cloud, blinking out more tears. “Stop thinking yourself so high and mighty that you can help me. You can’t. My life's over. I'm gonna be a burden on society, getting people's pity. Getting your pity. I don’t need that. I don’t want that! I know you don't want to be here. I know you don't give a shit about me—”

“Hey!” Cloud barked. Zack threw too many things at him. Cloud didn’t know where to start or how to even begin processing any of it, but he did understand his integrity being called into question. “If I didn’t want to be here I wouldn’t be here. I don’t have to be here. I’m here for you though. Don’t treat me like shit just because something’s happened and you won’t tell me about it. Don’t take it out on me. It’s not my fault!” 

Zack’s nostrils flared as he breathed out angry huffs of air. His shoulders heaved and he looked, for all intents and purposes, like a wounded animal. 

With his heart in his throat, Cloud took a wary step closer to Zack. His shoes soaked and his gait felt sticky in the drying liquid pooling on the ground. “Zack,” he said softly through the pain that stung in his chest. “What’s happened? Where’s all this negativity coming from? What happened to Positive Zack Fair?”

Zack clenched his fists and his jaw as if holding back another roar of rage. “He’s dead. He died out there on the field,” Zack flung his arm out, pointing out into the garden, “with everybody else.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and tears fell. He sniffed and threw a poisonous glare at Cloud.

Cloud flinched.

“What’s left is just a shell. A shell that doesn’t want to be here. Shouldn’t be here. I should have died out there. It would have been so much better instead of… picking up the bits and pieces and seeing my body and my life waste away and it would be better than being stuck in this fucking chair!” Zack slammed his fist against the armrest, and jerked forward, kicking the footrest with his right leg, making the whole chair jolt. He let out a pained-sounding wheezing grunt.

Cloud flinched again. The buzz in his body intensified. A high-pitched ringing went off in his ears as he helplessly watched the abject anguish and misery manifest itself on Zack's face through rolling tears. Cloud tried to remind himself that this wasn’t personal. Surely not. Zack was hurting. He’d been through unimaginable pain and trauma. He had untreated mental health issues—survivors guilt—and whatever else was happening for him right now that he couldn’t open up about. But Cloud didn’t appreciate the way Zack handled it or the way he talked to him. He tried to kick his rational and calm side into gear. But goddamn, he wished Zack had gotten help before this moment. Cloud hated being on the receiving end of this deeply personal hurt. Trying to calm himself, he gently as possible said, “Zack.” He waited a moment, to see if he was going to get another tongue-lashing. "I’m so sorry. Please talk to me. What’s going on? Is it your legs? What’s happened to make all this come up?” He reached for the trembling man.

Something indescribable flashed across Zack’s face, softening him for a split second before the hard mask returned. Zack scowled. He slapped Cloud’s hand away and wheeled himself back and out of Cloud’s immediate reach, the IV drip line pulling taut and the stand moving in Zack’s direction. “I wish you’d stop pretending to care. I can’t stand you being nice to me when I disgust you.”

“You don’t—”

“I do! I must be—that’s why…—my job disgusts you, I disgust you. And if that’s how you see me now, then how will I ever….” Zack’s voice sat heavy with held-back sobs. He winced and turned his face away for a moment, taking deep breaths. “How will anything ever get better? Talking won’t fix me. Nothing will fix this. It’s over. I’d rather be dead than—"

“No!”

“Oh, would that upset you?” Zack drawled and the hard, hate-filled glare returned and was directed at Cloud.

“Yes, of course!”

Zack ‘hmpfed.’ A sarcastic, “Of course,” left him.

“Fuck you,” Cloud spat.

“Fuck you, too. Fuck your dogs and your therapies. You can spare me your morally righteous opinions and your sob stories about your family and your own problems because they’re completely meaningless to me. You think you know what I’m going through but you fucking don’t! You’ll never understand.” 

Cloud could barely keep his outrage in check. The way Zack dismissed him, parroted him, mocked him… he clutched his hands into fists, trying to keep the anger inside. “Try me. Try and make me understand,” he grit through his clenched teeth.

“I’ve been trying, but you’re too thick. You don’t fucking get it!”

Cloud blinked. The dam broke. Anger flashed up inside and his filted dissolved into dust: "You are so fucking arrogant! You think you’ve got it bad because you’ve got a few injuries here and there? At least you’re not dead! At least you don’t have a chronic illness. Stop feeling sorry for yourself like you are the only one in the whole wide world going through shit. What happened to your fighting attitude? Where’s that sickening positivity gone all of a sudden? It’s all just for show! You’re as fake and weak as they come, and now you’re just gonna roll over and… what? Where does this leave you? You’re gonna off yourself? You're just gonna give up? Just like that? You make me sick. You fucking show-pony. You're gonna besmirch the memories of your fallen comrades by being this pathetic loser."

Zack roared and sprung up from the chair—his voice hitched and morphed into a screech of agony. Zack crumpled back down into the chair with his face twisted in pain.

Sickness surged up and Cloud could taste bile in the back of his throat. He lurched, rushing over the short distance between them and placed the featheriest of touches on Zack's shoulders, trying to steady and help.

Zack swung wide, knocking one of Cloud’s arms off himself. He shoved Cloud away with his elbow. Zack slumped back against the chair with a crash and a slight backward roll.

Staggering back, and almost breathless, Cloud clutched his arm and then his chest where Zack had pushed him with frightening strength. His whole body trembled from adrenaline. “You fucking asshole!”

A venomous, shimmering glare went up from Zack. "Where do you get off on calling me an asshole? Look in the fucking mirror, buddy. You’re the biggest, most fucking arrogant asshole in this place! How dare you talk to me like that! How dare you talk about them!" Zack screeched and then seethed through grit teeth as tears streamed down his face. "You've never seen active combat. You've never had to make the choices that I've had to make and you'll never get to experience the torment of those choices. You live your sheltered life because people like me and my squad are out there protecting you and everything you care about! You do not get to talk to me about giving up! You do not get to hold the people I hold dear to my soul against me, and if I wasn't stuck in this fucking chair," he screamed at the sky as if a deity would hear him and perhaps take notice of his plight, "I'd tell you to run because I would smash your fucking face into the floor if you ever talked to me like that ever again."

Cloud took a step back. Every atom in his body wanted to flee. Instead, he froze.

Zack trembled and chuffed like he'd run a marathon. Pain clenched his teeth, keeping them bared. Steel-blue eyes pierced Cloud and blinked out more tears. "What're you still doing here! Get the fuck out." Zack made to get up again, clenching the armrests as he rose with severe pain.

Cloud wanted to run, but he stretched out his arm. “Sit down!”

“No!” Zack bellowed.

“You stubborn ass!” Cloud leaned his body into the shout, not sure why he was still here—he hated seeing Zack like this. It was disgusting—upsetting… heartbreaking… 

“Get lost! I never want to see you again!” Zack spat. The hatred on his face scrunched up with a pained wince and he dropped back in the chair and sucked in air between his teeth.

The tremble in Cloud’s limbs grew. How dare Zack treat him like this. After everything he'd done for the man. Every single bad through he'd had when he'd first seen the comatose man came flooding back to him. "You know what, you're right. You should have died out there. I'm done trying to help you." He grimaced with disgust.

"Yeah, finally your true colors show through. You wanna know a secret? You've never been any real help. You're just a convenient distraction until I get out of here. You're a useless babysitter at best."

Molten lava sloshed inside Cloud's chest. "If you don't need a babysitter then stop acting like such a fucking baby.” He turned on a dime and stormed off, but before he got too far left a self-gratifying parting shot, “Good-fucking-luck getting off the roof by yourself, asshole!" and gave Zack the middle finger, rushing off in the direction he remembered the door to the hospital to be in.

“I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone! I’ll show you all!” Zack said, straining, and then grunted loudly with an accompaniment of metal clinks emanating from his direction.

Cloud turned and blinked the tears from his eyes as he looked over at Zack, single-handedly trying to roll the wheelchair while holding on to his IV-drip and pulling it along as well. He wasn’t doing too well with it, so threw his body into the motion to try and achieve momentum. He fumbled, his drip-stand almost toppling over. “Fuck,” he yelled and buried his face in his palm.

Cloud’s heart twinged at the sight but he steeled himself against the pathetic vision. He strode off with sick glee in his chest over this being a great life lesson for the prideful jackass.

He did, however, take a little detour to the residential floor to let a nurse know where Zack was. He hoped Bernice would give Zack a tongue-lashing. After leaving his report, he strode out of the hospital with confidence, knowing that he’d never set foot in this place ever again—certainly not to visit that man ever again. He was done.

Cloud got on his bike and revved the engine moments before he gunned it down the road. He lane filtered, detesting how slow everyone moved, and kept revving the bike with impatience at every red light.

Zack rolled around his head. His words—calling him a hypocrite, a babysitter, asshole, useless—a convenient distraction! He thumped his fist against the horn for a long-suffering minute at a car that had failed to indicate a millisecond early enough for Cloud’s liking.

Zack was such a manipulative asshole. Cloud should never have trusted him, been friendly with him, giving that prick any of his time. These military types were all the same. Every last one for them. They all had their own agenda: use people and pray on others goodwill until they no longer had a use for people like Cloud—until Cloud became an inconvenience to them or didn’t kowtow to their every fucking whim.

Clouds vision became progressively blurry as he rode home, the wind not doing enough to dry the tears away. Yet as much as his emotions were devoured by anger he also couldn’t stop his thoughts from dwelling on Zack's angry face and the tears and the pleading look in his eyes. It confused Cloud and cleaved his heart in two. He didn’t get it—didn’t understand. It was all just part of Zack’s manipulation. It must’ve been.

He took a deep breath and cleared his thoughts and wiped away his tears. It didn't matter. That man was no longer his concern and would never be his concern ever again. Cloud was never coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand _breathe_.  
> The ride's not quite over yet, but you get a breather until next week. (also... just in case anyone's worried... Cloud makes it home just fine, despite his reckless riding - I did think for a while there tho what if, what if... eheheh. That's something to explore in a different fic one day)
> 
> Once more, the song for the beginning of the chapter was [Bad Weather by The Rubens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhHhYoCf214&ab_channel=TheRubens)  
> I also have a song for the end - [Too Much To Handle by Highasakite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQF1V8WUjrE&ab_channel=Highasakite-Topic)
> 
> There exists the original version of this chapter over on my [Tumblr](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/Kintsukuroi-Ch9-argument) which is incredibly tame compared to what it turned into in the final published piece here. I didn’t want to lose what I wrote before because it’s still very valid, but I am… ‘happier’... isn’t quite the word but I am happier with this iteration of the chapter. I have in part [Capt_BA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capt_BA) to thank (or blame { _do keep an eye out for Capt_BA, because one day you’ll see a fic from them and it will be… of epic proportions @__@_ }) for this turn of events, and partly my percolating and fermenting brain that's recontextualising and fleshing out character motivations and story events. 
> 
> I've been dreading posting this chapter. I have worries about this version. I wonder if I'm gonna lose readers. If people will tune out because suddenly the ship and scenario has become untenable or irredeemable and can't be gotten behind anymore. And maybe that is true for some people, but clearly I believe they will come back from this better and stronger—or I wouldn't have so many more chapters coming up 😄 
> 
> The forecast for future chapters is rough seas, but I believe there’s nothing quite as stormy as we’ve just witnessed here. We also get a lot of sunshine… and frustrating gales that keep blowing your hat off and making you curse at the sky for being so blustery. 
> 
> Anyway, this analogy's going nowhere fast. 
> 
> I hope I didn't lose anyone, but if so, oh well. The main thing is that I've still got you, random reader _points at you_ and I hope you'll continue to look forward to the upcoming chapters. 
> 
> If this week was really _really_ bad, then next week is only _really_ bad. Italics intentional. Remember, the deeper the hurt the stronger the comfort!
> 
> This story's only just getting started 😁


	10. Soldier On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud receives some terrible news, so he better learn to forgive, and quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bearing through chapter 9. Chapter 10 is a doozy for many reasons, as you’ll see. A _lot_ gets covered. +20k worth of _a lot_. This is not for a light evening read. 😅 There’s a couple of scene breaks here and there so hopefully that’ll help.
> 
> I’m also going to do something a little bit different re: chapter warnings. I’m gonna lock the spoiler-heavy warnings under a mouse-over, so you can choose whether you wanna see them or not. Also, this does not work for mobile viewers, so I’ll only do the really plot specific ones like this.
> 
> Chapter warnings are - some mentions of chronic illness, suicidal ideation talk, ugly crying,! **SPOILERS WITHIN!**! <<\-- Only mouse-over this text if you are dying to know what awaits you!
> 
> If anyone finds any typos or something please could you let me know? I don’t have a beta and I cannot bring myself to read through this one more time. My eyes and heart cannot take it 😅😓
> 
> Huge 'thank you' to Capt. BA for keeping me sane and listening to me agonise over the editing process of this beast of a chapter.
> 
> Please, enjoy. I’ve slaved and cried over this more than I care to admit.

Cloud awoke in a sullen mood but feeling oddly fresh too—if he ignored the dehydration headache and his puffy eyes from his previous night’s outpouring of grief and pain over having been insulted and belittled by someone he’d considered almost dear to his heart. He shook the thoughts out and noted that he'd gotten up way before his alarm, which served as yet another odd surprise.

Maybe all the shit with Zack had been weighing him down too much. Maybe now that the man was severed from him, and Cloud no longer needed to spend an ounce of energy worrying about the jackass, he might be able to focus on himself. He was done caring. Done being used for other people's personal gains. Done propping up others because of his generosity of time or effort. That was a bit of an exciting prospect: there was something light in his chest like he’d been freed of a great burden. 

He got up and went to the bathroom to relieve himself, wash his face, and to get his first cup of coffee for the day down his throat. As he stood in his kitchen, nursing his drink, he couldn't get over how good he felt. Actual energy courses through his veins and he felt raring to go.

He went to work early, hoping to knock off early for when his body inevitably gave out on him around mid-afternoon—possibly even earlier, considering he was up before 10. 

Tifa stared in disbelief. "Is everything okay? It's not even twelve yet. What're you doing here?"

"Getting my work done. I'm feeling great." He made his way to his inbox and got his worksheet, glancing over it; a stone rolled off his chest. There was no trace of a flower arrangement on his to-do list. He headed out, got into the van, and went to get to work. 

Keeping busy was wonderful. He relegated the hospital incident to the past and considered it done and dusted. He still suspected that _somehow_ Tifa would get involved at some point and speak with him about it, but for now, he chose to ignore that niggling thought… which worked well until he got home in the afternoon, left alone with his thoughts. He tried to watch some TV but too many things reminded him of the fact that at this time of day he’d often be at the hospital, channel surfing with someone. And the suspicion that Tifa would be on him very soon unnerved him. That feeling unleashed all the thoughts and feelings he’d been holding at bay the last 24 hours.

He replayed the hurtful things that had been said to him with little clarity. It’s like that whole incident was shrouded in a thick fog he couldn’t get past. But the hurt burned in his chest: it lingered and pricked his eyes and stoked his anger and caused him to tremble. The thought of being made to make up had him grind his teeth, so he did the unthinkable; he called home and organized a small three-week holiday. Maybe some fresh air, forests, and lakes would do him some good? 

After he sent that message it unleashed the floodgates of texts and phone calls from his brother, father, cousin, and even a friend he’d grown up with. Apparently, Cloud coming back home for something other than the obligatory Christmas festivities was a big deal.

All the phone calls, planning, and booking helped marvelously with drowning out his anger. He even got some solid sleep.

The peace he experienced over those first 24 hours didn’t last longer than that. When Cloud came to work at his more predictable midday start, Tifa asked him, “What happened between you and Zack? He called this morning saying he’s sorry and really wants to see you, and _soon_ if at all possible,” Tifa concluded with a pointed stare.

Cloud’s stomach turned and twisted. He kept his head down and checked his work schedule; his heart sank to his feet. He had a flower delivery to make. “Nothing happened,” Cloud responded with the biggest and most obvious lie possible as he took his paperwork and hurried into the back to get his van.

“Cloud!” Tifa called after him, but he chose to ignore her and left, hopping into his vehicle. He started the van, drove a block, and then pulled over to look over his worksheet: planning out the most effective pick-up and delivery routes. He certainly had no plans of doing the flower delivery. _That man_ was in his past now. He phoned up Therone and swapped out his flower delivery for a parcel delivery. He gave it no further thought than that.

A good portion of his day driving was spent planning out his tactic for absconding from work: email Tifa that he was taking leave—no request about it. He was leaving. If she had a problem with it she could always fire him. But seeing how everything was booked he felt safe in thinking she'd understand. He'd tell her at the last possible moment so she couldn't do anything but to accept his absence. Cloud felt better for making that decision.

The day passed and when he arrived back at the shop late in the evening he parked the van and headed in to clock out. It was predictably dark inside, just how he had planned for it to go. He flicked on the light—

A bouquet sat in his out-tray. He went over to it, depositing the delivery receipts on Tifa’s desk as he passed, and examined the flower arrangement. Delicate blue and purple flowers were nicely arranged. Cloud had seen enough of Aerith’s craft to know her signature arrangements by now. He spotted the small card attached with a printed message—

Cloud,

I’m so sorry for all the things I said and did. I regret everything. I’m so sorry. Please let me explain. Please give me a chance.

Your (hopefully still) friend,  
Zack.

Cloud clenched his teeth and repressed the tremendous urge to throw the bouquet clear across the room. He caught sight of the delivery slip, still needing a signature— _his_ signature. Cloud ripped it up and put it in the wastepaper basket, along with the flowers and card. He didn’t accept any of it.

### 

He really struggled to get up the next day, and gave up trying, texting in that he was sick and would take his planned leave effective immediately.

He slept the entire day away.

### 

The next day was much the same as the previous one, though he did consider packing his things in time for his trip while he vacantly stared at the TV over his meals.

He had no energy for that.

He'd do it tomorrow.

### 

Tomorrow came and passed much like the brain-fog of the previous day.

### 

The doorbell rang, waking Cloud up with a start. He rose like a creature from a crypt, squinting and rubbing at his head, feeling stiff all over. The bell rang again. He winced. He didn’t make to leave the bed, instead just sitting there, the thin blanket pooling around his waist, and his cotton singlet clinging to his back due to sweat.

He heard the door open and clicking footsteps hurried his way. The door opened and a relieved sigh sounded out of Tifa, who wore a white blouse and long black business slacks. “So you _are_ still here and capable of being up.” 

He nodded and rubbed at the sleep in his eyes.

“Get up and get dressed.” She pulled clothes out of Cloud’s dresser, layng black jeans and a dark green shirt out for him atop of the wooden chest of drawers.

Cloud squinted. “I’m on leave. You can’t order me to go to work.”

“I’m not making you come to work.”

“Then what?”

“We're going to the hospital. _Now._ C’mon.” She glared, turned on a dime, and haughtily clicked out into the living area, leaving the bedroom door wide open.

Tifa’s words echoed around Cloud’s head, growing louder until it hurt. He flung himself back against his bed and covered his head with a pillow, hoping she would get the hint that he was done.

Silence reigned for a good long while. Cloud’s body relaxed incrementally as the threat of Tifa coming in and pulling him out of bed seemed to diminish with time, rather than escalate, which is normally what would have happened by now. He moved the pillow to peek around his room. He saw no one. He glanced over to the open door, through it, into his living space. Tifa stood, leaning against the kitchen counter which he could see from his bed. She scowled at him, her arms folded.

Cloud retreated behind his pillow waiting for the wrath, and yet… it didn’t come. She stood out there with only an unwavering glare wrinkling her brow and narrowing her eyes.

He didn’t know what time of day it currently was or how long their standoff would last. He felt pigheaded enough to try and outlast her all day if necessary. What should it even matter to her that Cloud made up with someone? He refused to be dictated to.

Quiet remained between them for a considerable amount of time. Enough for Cloud to doze off again lightly. He, however, roused when he heard a loud and garish ringtone he didn’t recognize as his own. He lifted the pillow from his head and stole a peek at Tifa, who fished for her phone, held it before herself while she continued to glare at Cloud and answered it on the speaker.

_“Hey, Tifa.”_

Cloud’s stomach dropped like a stone. He recognized the tinny voice.

“Hi Zack, how’re you holding up?” Though sounding soft, Tifa continued to glare harshly at Cloud.

He heard the other man’s thin and frayed laugh. _“Not too good. I’m sorry I keep ringing. I’m just wondering if you’ve heard anything from Cloud. I, ah… I really need to see him.”_ Zack’s voice had a brittle edge to it which nailed Cloud right in his chest.

“I know, honey. I'm doing the best I can to get hold of him.”

 _"Please check on him. If he's sick again… please look after him. Don't tell him I've been calling if he's not well. And if he doesn't want to see me again,”_ there came a long pause. Tifa kept glaring at Cloud, a little softer, her emotions for the man on the other end of the line making it impossible for her to keep her hard edge, _“that's okay too. I'd just like to talk to him one last time. Apologize in person or over the phone. I'm sorry for putting this on you.”_

“It's alright. I'm honestly used to chasing after that man. I'll hopefully get you an answer today.” She gave Cloud a very pointed stare.

 _“Thank you,”_ Zack said weakly. _“I really need to apologize to him.”_ A shaky rattle fell out of him like he was holding back a sob. He apologized again to Tifa in a quiet voice that Cloud barely heard and said goodbye and hung up.

Cloud stared at his bedsheets, his head still covered by the pillow. His heart hammered and a queasy sensation turned his stomach. Zack sounded awful and upset. Cloud squeezed his eyes shut and let the damp around from them soak into the pillowcase.

He had been able to ignore the notes and gestures. He found it harder to ignore the ache and quaver in Zack's voice, or the words and tone of delivery. He hated Tifa manipulating him like this—he thought of Zack doing the same to him. He hardened himself against the softening feelings and pressed the pillow tight over his head.

“Cloud,” Tifa complained, sounding closer than before this time.

Cloud ignored her. He heard her steps and felt her weight on his bed, dipping down.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

He slowly lifted the pillow off his head a fraction. "With?"

 _"Zack,"_ she sighed with exasperation.

"I don’t want to talk about it.” He put the pillow back in place. 

"How can you be so cold? You heard how terrible he sounded over the phone. You heard how sorry he is—he’s been sounding worse and worse every passing day, and Aerith… well, she’s really worried about him too.” Her very voice held a scowl. 

He lifted the pillow a fraction, so he could correct Tifa. “Excuse me for respecting myself enough to not want to put up with verbal abuse.”

“Verbal abuse? What did he say?”

“Many things. He called me an asshole.”

“You’re definitely being one right now,” Tifa retorted in a snappy tone. “He sounds at death's door and you’re going to hold a grudge?”

Tifa’s words slammed into Cloud. He tried to fight against the welling softness in his resolve. “He told me he was just using me to pass the time. He called me a hypocrite and told me he never wanted to see me again. How am I supposed to take that? Why should I go back to him?” A tremble started in his arms.

“Zack _isn’t_ well. People who aren’t well don’t think right. He thinks the world of you and I don’t know what happened, or what’s going on, but he needs you right now. So you can either get your ass over to the hospital or live with regret. What do you want to do?”

Cloud sat with Tifa’s words—he meant the _world_ to Zack? Preposterous. Zack had said he wanted him gone. Why would he say that… unless… Cloud went stiff under the covers. Tifa’s words again rang in his ears: regret. Would he live to regret…. Would Zack… _live?_ —Zack was a giant idiot; he always put others before himself. If he wanted Cloud gone… to not worry him—Cloud flung his pillow and sheets aside and rose with a strained grunt, fighting against the headspin that accompanied long periods of lying down.

He shooed Tifa out so he could get changed hastily and all the while tried to turn off the panicking thoughts and wonderings about how bad things really were for Zack. 

It didn't take long before he was dressed and out the door with Tifa close at his side. They headed for Tifa's car, a small blue hatchback, down in the carpark, and drove off.

"You are really stubborn," she commented as she drove them to their location.

Cloud grunted.

"Are you _really_ going away on holidays or were you trying to blow me off?"

"I really _am_ going."

"Is everything alright back home?"

"Yes."

"Ah… you just decided to go on a holiday just like that? For fun?" 

"Yup. For fun."

"How unlike you."

Cloud grunted and stared out the window, thankful for the silence.

Thoughts niggled at Cloud as he blankly stared at the cityscape passing by. The worrying sickness that had propelled him out of bed no longer sat as a pressing urge. It wavered and diminished as another thought pushed in: was this all an elaborate ruse? Another layer of fakery? What was the point of it all and how the hell had Zack roped Tifa into the subterfuge? Cloud was far from trusting of people, but when it came to those he knew and considered himself close to he also recognized himself to be far too naïve. What if Zack just wanted to have another go at him?

But what if Zack was seriously unwell too? It didn’t matter now, Cloud supposed. He was on his way to the hospital either way. He wasn't an action-hero: unbuckle his seatbelt, open the door, and fling himself out. Though he supposed he could get out at a traffic stop if he _really_ wanted to. 

He had a choice still. That was enough.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Zack?” he asked.

“No. All he's been telling me is that he wants to see you _—needs_ to see you. He keeps telling me how sorry he is and to let you know that he’s sorry." Tifa wore a scowl.

Cloud tensed and didn't feel too good. In a way… if this was all a joke at his expense… it would probably be better than the alternative. He kept quiet and Tifa didn't push for anything further, so the car ride to the hospital was filled with whatever the radio provided as way of noise.

It served as a poor distraction. The closer they got to the hospital the deeper Cloud's discomfort grew. What state would he find Zack in? He _was_ still mad over their last conversation—argument—fight, really. What had they even fought about? All Cloud knew was that he’d been attacked where it hurt him the most, and Zack had done that on _purpose._ Calling him useless and a hypocrite, accusing him of not caring—telling him to get lost. He huffed with the irritation welling up again. He had done so much for Zack, while Zack refused to help himself. It pissed Cloud off. Even if Zack was unwell that didn’t give him a free pass to insult Cloud the way that he had. A part of Cloud wanted Zack to beg him for forgiveness. A part of him wanted to go there, see Zack, and walk back out without giving the man any absolution. 

That'd teach him.

He didn’t know if he’d forgive Zack but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be guilted into it either. Cloud respected himself too much to be abused in such a way—to be taken for granted—to be at the beck and call of other people’s wants and needs.

Cloud sat, stewing in his thoughts. Stewing in what he would find in the hospital and how he'd react and how Zack would react. Zack wanting to speak to him _one last time_ twisted his gut though. It melted some of Cloud's hard-edged determination. What did Zack's sickly pleas mean? How bad had things gotten? 

The emotionally draining and heated thoughts ground to a halt as Tifa pulled up outside of the hospital a little after midday.

“We're here.”

Cloud looked out the window. "This is a set-down area only," he remarked.

"And I'm setting you down."

Cloud gave her a questioning look.

"Call me whenever you're finished. I'll come pick you up and take you home."

"What if it's in two minutes?"

"Then I'll come back in two minutes," she said flatly. "But you need to have talked to him. And if you don't, I'll know about it," she threatened.

Cloud looked out at the hospital entrance, noting a small crowd of news anchors milling about, setting up cameras. His breath caught in his chest. He quickly looked back at Tifa. "What's the media here for?" He hadn’t been watching the news out of spite and self-care.

She shook her head and shrugged. "No idea. But he doesn't sound well. Go see him."

Cloud refocused. This was a very major hospital. The media could be camping out for any number of reasons, he told himself, and yet, over the last 7 months, the media had only ever been here for one person. Hauling the words out of his chest, he simply said, "Okay," and with that proceeded to get out, warily sneaking around to the loading bay in order to avoid the news anchors. 

He made his way through the hospital and the closer he got to his targets location the heavier he felt. His footsteps slowed, each one as difficult to take as if he were stuck in thigh-high mud. He didn't know what he would say. He didn't know if he would forgive the other man. He was scared he was about to receive terrible-for-himself-but-devastating-for-Zack news. He worried about the media outside and what it all meant and then he received a crushing blow as he got stopped from going down the corridor that led to Zack's door.

It was someone in a uniform sporting a stern stare, demanding to know his business.

"I'm here to see Zack Fair."

"On what grounds?"

The question slammed into Cloud, winding him. "He asked me to come here."

"Can I see some ID, please?"

"I don't have any." All he had walked out with had been his keys and phone. He had given no thought to needing a wallet.

"Name," the man demanded, his clean-shaven, olive-skinned face drawn tight. 

"Cloud Strife."

"You are on the prohibited list."

The speed of that delivery gave Cloud whiplash, "Prohibited?" The embers of outrage stoked. _"Why?_ He requested me to come and see him."

"I will have to ask you to leave." The military man laid his hand on Cloud’s shoulder, ready to push him away when a voice from the left made both of them turn.

“Wait—hey, wait. What’s going on here, Connie?” The tall man, with swept-back long dark hair and piercing blue-green eyes, that Cloud recognized as Zack's father, stood there.

The military man, whose name was apparently Connie, turned. "He isn’t allowed in.”

“On whose orders? This man has been keeping my son company ever since he ended up here. He is the only one here who’s got rights equal to my wife and I when it comes to being with my son.”

Cloud felt deeply uncomfortable and taken aback by the familiarity and warm regard in those words, even as they carried gravity and authority. 

“Orders are orders,” the military man dismissed.

Zack's dad put his hands on his hips and sighed out. “Well, I’m taking my son up to the roof and you can’t stop me. If Mister Strife wants to come up and have a _very public_ conversation up there, he is more than welcome to do that. I’m pretty sure I saw some journalists from N.M.N.C in the garden,” Zack's dad muttered to himself loudly before directing a jovial smile at the military man. “Or, Connie,” he shrugged, “they could just stay in the privacy of my son’s room and have a chat there. But either way, they are talking, and he is seeing my son.”

Cloud worked hard at keeping the shit-eating grin inside. Connie looked pissed.

“I will talk to my superiors.” 

“You do that, boy."

Cloud watched the military man leave, after which he let out an amused huff. He turned his attention toward Zack's father, who grinned for a brief moment before his face fell into a heavily burdened frown.

"Come inside," he motioned to Cloud and headed for Zack's door.

"Thank you." Cloud followed, his mirth fading fast.

"No, thank _you_ for coming. My boy could really use a friend like you right about now."

Cloud's stomach dropped with all the unpleasant feelings from before rousing inside. "What's happened?"

"Things have been…” he sighed, though it sounded more like a pained wince, “speeding up. Not getting better. I’ll let him explain it to you." Zack's father opened the door and stood aside for Cloud to head in first, which he did with slow, burdened steps.

Cloud was hit with the thick wafting scent of flowers and saw a densely packed line of them on the kitchen counters, and other out-of-the-way flat surfaces. The rest of the room was the same as it had always been, except for the introduction of more guest chairs and extra medical equipment all hooked up to—

 _"Cloud!"_ came Zack’s strained-sounding cry.

Cloud stared at the tubes going every which way: into and around Zack’s arms and under the blanket. Zack sat reclined on his bed, where he had always been, smiling over at him. But there was something wrong about it. His smile was thin and brittle, looking ready to collapse with even the slightest breeze. And generally, Zack looked all wrong; gaunt in his cheeks that even the heavy stubble couldn't cover. He also looked wasted in his neck and arm, or maybe the hospital gown he wore just gave that appearance? His hair sat matted against his head, his skin appeared pallid and sallow. The honey sheen of his deep natural tan nowhere in sight and his _eyes!_ Dark bags sat under them and… Cloud could make out bags under _those_ bags. 

Truly, the sight of vibrant and alive Zack Fair, changed to _this,_ terrified Cloud more than he could say. Repulsion and dread rushed through and made him draw in on himself; his mouth drifted and hung open with no closure in sight. Zack held his stare with watering eyes. Cloud could see his reaction breaking the fragile attempt of normalcy on Zack’s face, but he couldn’t wipe the expression away. He couldn’t force out a smile. He wasn't good at faking it; wasn't as practiced as the other man.

He was freed from the hypnosis of horror by the sweet and familiar tinkle of a woman’s voice, "Oh, Cloud, thank you for coming. It’s so good to see you.” 

Cloud tore his eyes off Zack, yet still unable to shut his mouth. He looked over and recognized the vibrant green eyes, rich brunette hair, and Aerith's timbre, though she also looked a little frayed; her hair in disarray, a pastiness to her usually warm, clear skin. She got up from where she sat at the foot of Zack's bed and walked toward him.

Cloud got pushed from behind, Zack’s father moved him further into the room and shut the door behind them. Aerith flung her arms around Cloud, giving him a tremendous hug. Cloud stared blankly for a second before registering that he should also reciprocate the hug, and so he did, stiff and robotic, patting her gently on her shoulder.

Cloud caught sight of Zack’s father moving across the room to his son’s side and finally Cloud noticed the other occupant of the room; Zack’s mother, her face about as pale and sallow as Zack’s. She held Zack’s hand against her cheek, her elbows resting on the bed as she sat next to him on a plastic chair.

Zack kept looking at Cloud, a desperate want sitting in his shimmery and glassy eyes. Cloud could sense the dam behind that gaze; frayed, cracked, ready to give out. He could feel that look drilling into his own resolve, and how it begged him to stay, to talk, to hold—hold everything that needed to burst out.

All the hurt Zack had inflicted on him days ago sat at the very back of Cloud’s mind, though it wasn’t completely gone. He’d never felt so ready for forgiveness as in that moment of seeing Zack in absolute ruin.

Aerith finally let go of Cloud, took his hand and led him over to the bed. A sense of getting dragged down to hell overcame Cloud. He fought against himself to _not_ pull out of her touch and run away as panic rose with astonishing speed.

“Sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” he muttered dumbly whilst getting presented to Zack and his family like an offering to appease the Gods.

Zack’s father shook his head. “Please, just spend some time together. Flo, darling, let’s go get something to eat.” He took his wife’s arm, gently pulling her up.

"That is a good idea. We should take a little break." Aerith jumped into action, hurrying around the bed to assist in steering Zack’s mother out of the room.

Zack's mother sobbed, pulled out of the hold from both parties, and stepped close to the bed, flinging her arms around her son.

"It's alright, mom. Go have some rest. You'll see me before anything happens, I promise,” Zack said, a deep and calming rumble to his voice, which sat in complete contrast with his current physical appearance.

She murmured something indistinct, gave Zack more hugs and peppered his face in kisses, after which she let herself be led away, while giving him a forlorn backward glance.

Zack's father turned to Cloud as he passed. "We'll give you a couple of hours.”

Cloud nodded. Getting words out felt too difficult. A scream sat in his throat though, wanting to break free. 

He watched the door shut behind them and slowly turned around to face Zack again. This much closer, Cloud could see the full extent of how unhealthy Zack looked. A sickly sheen sat on his brows. His skin looked almost translucent. And yet, Zack tried to put on a smile. It lasted for less than a second. His face twisted and spasmed grotesquely. He hunched over, holding his middle, and a high-pitched, pained whine squeaked out, like a balloon's neck being pulled taut.

Cloud's legs moved before he could register a single thought in his mind. He swooped down, sitting on the edge of Zack's bed, and carefully, but swiftly, pulled the other man into his arms and against his chest as howling, anguished sobs wracked through Zack.

Hands gripped the back of Cloud's shirt tightly. Hot tears soaked into the front of Cloud's shirt. He kept holding onto Zack, tears pricking his eyes, and making his nose stuffy, even though he had no clue what was happening or going on. His heart and chest felt laden with immoveable boulders, squashing his ability to speak. He didn't know what he should say anyway. He tried to remember that he was supposed to be pissed off, a difficult task when faced with such an outpouring of tremendous overwhelming pain.

Cloud sat quietly, hugging Zack to his chest and breathing in his scent; not as pleasant as the other times; the odor of acrid disinfectant, and the distinct _sanitary_ smell of the white and blue speckled hospital gown Zack wore, clung to him, but Cloud caught a hint of warmth deep in Zack's hair behind the man's ear. He nuzzled into it wanting more, seeking some sort of comfort from this person whom he hardly even recognized. 

The sobbing wails continued until they quietened, giving way to other sounds falling out of Zack. It took Cloud a while to realize he was trying to speak.

"—m sorry. I'm so———sorry. Th—you———com-ing. Th———m—s———worl— to—me. You———to———e. ‘M sorry———upset———u. I'm———sorry."

Cloud pushed against Zack a little, getting the man off himself. Teary, red-rimmed eyes looked up at him. Zack's skin was still pale, but now also splotchy. His nose leaked, his lip trembled, and his face pulled into a hideous sight once more as another sob forced its way out, causing fresh tears to stream.

The sight of Zack like this drove a deep ice pick into Cloud's heart. He pulled Zack back against himself, hugging him tighter and buried his face in greasy-feeling hair, whilst he unsuccessfully fought against his own tears.

A million scenarios ran through Cloud's head regarding what could be wrong. They all ended in Zack dead by the time the sun rose again. And those thoughts made Cloud hold on to Zack all the tighter, like the man would turn to sand at any moment, especially with how gaunt he felt through the paper thin fabric he wore.

For how long they stayed clinging to each other, Cloud couldn't even hazard a guess at. Zack kept crying in varying waves of intensity. Cloud's queasiness and sadness ebbed and flowed. Muttered, half-intelligible apologies kept falling out of Zack from time to time.

If this was all fake then Zack was a very good faker. Cloud didn’t think Zack _could_ act this well though. All he knew was that Zack was hurting and it hurt him just knowing that. He felt clueless as to what to say but found his voice eventually, feeling that maybe his silence was the issue that didn't let them move beyond this point. He, as calmly as possible, asked, "What's going on?" 

“I—m so—rry.”

“I know you are. Tell me what’s happening so I can forgive you.” Cloud received a tight, breathtaking squeeze around his middle.

Zack loudly sucked in deep and stuttering breaths of air in an effort to calm himself enough to speak, all the while keeping his forehead pressed to Cloud’s chest. “I—” a massive sob broke free. Zack grunted and took several more calming breaths, wrestling for control over his body.

All Cloud could do was hold Zack, and firmly rub his bony back. This dramatic physical change in Zack after 5 measly days was completely jarring and upped Cloud’s apprehension and worry.

With a deeper breath than the last few, Zack pulled away from Cloud, sitting up straight, staring intently at the space between them. A pained expression flicked on and off his face. He attempted several times to speak, but his breath caught every time and his face flinched and twitched as he tried to corral his emotions. His gaze flicked on and off Cloud and his cheeks turned ever redder as fat tears streaked down his face and fell onto the white sheets that covered Zack up. 

“I s-said unforgivable th-things to y-ou. I haven’t been well a-and I let it o—let it out on you and I’m so—” he winced, curled in on himself, and couldn’t contain the sob, “—sorry.” He rubbed at his face and sniffled woefully.

Cloud watched on, unable to keep the sorrowful scowl from swallowing up his face.

“I di-didn’t mean to hurt you like I di-d. I don’t wa-ant to hurt you. I didn’t—didn’t know h-how much sa-ying the things tha-that I said wo-ould hurt me-e-e too. I know say-ing so-s-sorry now can’t ta-a-ake the words back, but I’m so sorry, Cloud.” Zack let out a hefty breath. “I’m sorry for hu-rting you. I’ve been too a-angry and I’m s-sorry for la-ashing out and not res-respecting you and it’s all wrong of me to expect th-things from you—expect you to c-care—”

“But I _do_ care. I care about you. It pisses me off that you had the nerve to say to me that I didn’t.” Even now, Cloud felt the heat of upset rising. He breathed it out and reached for Zack, taking up his hand, determined to prove the idiot wrong. 

Zack looked down and then up at Cloud. His face held a grave frown, and general demeanor felt like he had lost his ability to smile, lost his comprehension of what joy ever looked like. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

A deep need to throw up pulsated in Cloud’s chest. “I know you are. Tell me what’s happened. Make me understand.” Saying those words brought on an internal wince and fear that Zack might lash out again.

But all that happened was that Zack said, “Right, _right…”_ and his dark, burdened blue eyes lowered and his brows knit tight. A war seemed to rage inside of him, a bid for control over his emotions long enough to manage to get out what he needed to say. Another deep breath later and Zack tried talking again, “Th-thank you for… being h-here.” He sighed heavily, his voice steadying as he continued, “I’m not well.” Zack’s gaze didn't waver from where it sat around Cloud’s waist. 

“My—” Zack’s voice broke. He squeezed Cloud’s hand a little, and Cloud squeezed back harder. Zack puffed and winced and recollected himself, “I shouldn’t have said all that st-stuff to you that I did. It's no excuse, but I ha-haven't been right. Not i—in my head. Not in my b—body. My legs—” Zack closed his eyes and steeled himself. “They think my right one’s okay but my le-ft—” His chiefs puffed as he blew out a gust of air and sniffled. His eyes squeezed shut even tighter, “there’s gangrene, and nothing’s helped or worked. The b—bone’s not setting. There’s too much s—swelling, and… there’s too much wrong and—it’s going to kill me if they don’t—” Zack sobbed and covered his face with his hand as he forced out the words, “cut it off. Amputate. Fuck. I don’t know what to do. I’m so a—angry. I’m—” a breath shook out of Zack. His hand fell away from his face and he looked up at Cloud, eyes dripping, bloodshot, and as wide as the sorrow on his face would allow, “—scared. I’m so s—scared.” He trembled like a leaf.

The buzzing in Cloud’s ears steadily increased to a high pitched ring. His vision speckled. There were no words that came to mind. He acted on instinct, pulling Zack against himself and folding his arms around him for comfort and protection, whether for his own sake or Zack’s, he wasn’t sure.

Zack trembled and nuzzled into the bow of Cloud’s shoulder. He wound his arms around Cloud’s waist and held on tight before he continued, “I’m sorry for what I said. I’m… s—scared. I don’t like feeling like this. I don—I don’t know what to do when I’m like this.”

The wall of silence he had felt trapped behind disintegrated and, with a frown, he hastily said, “You’re frustrating and stubborn and I hate that you don’t tell me what’s going on because of your stupid pride. It’s okay to feel scared.”

Zack sobbed again, squeezing Cloud tight, before saying, “I just don’t want you to think less of me.”

“I think less of you when you carry on like a tough soldier, ignoring what’s really going on all to… keep up the show that you’re okay.”

Zack kept his head buried in the crook of Cloud’s neck, but breathily muttered, “I can’t stop the show. The people that are important to me—I can’t let them see me scared, or upset. I can’t cry in front of them. It would kill my mom. It would break Aerith, and destroy my old man. I’ve got to be strong for them… carry them through this. I need to be fine for them. I need to hold on for _them,”_ Zack said, his voice holding strength and determination, growing bolder with each syllable. His breath evened out and he pushed back from Cloud, a grim expression on his face as they looked into each other’s eyes.

Cloud glared back. “It’s not healthy to keep it all inside.”

Zack grimaced but held it together. “I know. I know. I—thank you for coming, for being here. I… I—you’re the only one… _Cloud….”_ He trembled. “I trust you. I want to tell you.”

Cloud balked at the softness in Zack’s voice. “So tell me… your leg… what’s the next step? What’s gonna happen, and _when_?” he asked the one thing he knew would focus his mind away from his current discomfort, even if it did shift onto something far worse and upsetting.

The previous heavy cloud of uncertainty blanketed Zack once more, wrinkling his brow and causing a sniffle to quake through him. “I’m having an operation tonight.” 

Cloud roused himself from the sick, cold dread Zack’s news dumped on him and pushed the man back a little. _“Tonight?_ That soon?”

Zack nodded and fluttering lashes fought back the tears. The barely-there color drained from Zack’s face even as he spoke, ”I’ve been wanting to tell you and talk to you. I’m so glad you came.” A long, drawn-out breath left him and he slumped forward, his shoulders drooping. “I was supposed to be operated on two days ago, but I… really couldn’t go through with it until I saw you again.” 

With bewildered shock, Cloud barked, “Are you _insane?_ You shouldn’t wait for me. I’m about to go away on holiday. What if I had _already_ been away?”

“I… ” With wide eyes, Zack latched onto Cloud’s hand, weak and feeble, and half-choked out, “You’re going away? When?”

Cloud swallowed. A hard lump sat in his stomach. “Day after tomorrow.”

Zack’s grip on Cloud’s hand tightened. He squeezed his eyes shut and labored as he said, “I… I really need to get this off my chest _now_ , don’t I.” He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and focused on where he held Cloud’s hand. “I’m scared I’m gonna die. I’m scared about that for the _first time_ in my life. I never thought about it out in the field, I always just did my duty to my squad. But now… this… I can’t deal with it. I don’t know what to do, but all I know is that I didn’t want to go out without saying sorry to you and making things right between us.” He dragged his gaze up and gave Cloud a pitiful look, “And I’m so glad you’re still here for me to tell you that.”

Cloud shrunk back from Zack but squeezed his hand tight. “You’re an _idiot._ You could have _died_ waiting for me. Don’t you have any self-preservation instinct?”

Zack rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand and clicked his tongue. Something dark settled in his eyes, a tremble went through his hands. Zack clenched his hands, and Cloud’s which he still held. The tremble stopped. He breathed out audibly. “If it ever came to that, the doctors would have done an emergency operation on me. I’m okay, Cloud. I’ve still got time.” 

“But you’re having it _tonight_. Regardless if I was here or not.”

Zack said nothing to that. He kept his eyes down. Cloud felt the underlying tension—the fear; whether his own or Zack’s he couldn't differentiate. He let go of Zack and turned a little to look at the blanketed legs behind himself. The left looked bigger than the right, probably due to all the bandages. He faced Zack again. “You’re an idiot.”

Still not looking at Cloud, Zack shrugged one shoulder. The sullen expression grew deeper on his face. “Can I ask you for something?”

A cold shiver ran down Cloud’s spine. Zack wanting something from him made him hyper-aware of being a mere _convenience_ for the other man. Anger, sorrow, and an eagerness to already say ‘yes’ before he ever heard the request all vied for dominance inside of Cloud. He decided to hear Zack out, so hummed and nodded, almost at the edge of his seat with anticipation.

“I know after how awful I was I don’t deserve it, but can you please stay with me tonight?” Zack briefly glanced up at Cloud, “Until it’s all over? Until I wake up, and if I don’t—”

“You _are_ gonna wake up,” Cloud snapped, with the slightest tremble of terror quavering in his chest. “You’re stubborn and dumb, and also really strong. You’re going to be fine, and when this is all over you’ll keep fighting and using that obstinate attitude of yours to get better.” Cloud’s heart raced. His hands felt sweaty and he breathed deep to try and contain the shake inside himself. Hearing Zack talk with defeat… it felt like his heart was being scrunched up into a tight ball. Other than that, he didn’t know what to make of Zack’s request though. At least he had asked nicely…. “Did they talk to you about everything that’s going to have to happen for your recovery?”

Zack huffed, and the smallest smile flicked across his lips as he looked back up at Cloud. With a nod, he said, “Yeah, but I couldn’t hear any of it because of the ringing in my ears.”

Cloud rolled his eyes, exasperated but the lead ball of queasiness inside himself also lifted a fraction. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see. Having an amputation isn’t the end of the world. There are lots of people who’ve gone through this and they’re all living happy lives.”

Zack smiled softly even as his eyes glassed over with shimmering wetness. “Family?”

Zack’s previous words of anger, up on the roof, came to mind and roused apprehension and some measure of insult, but Cloud tried not to take offense. He merely shook his head. How could he stay mad when Zack was at death's door—something inside of Cloud told him Zack was downplaying the seriousness of his situation, even now. “People at the recovery group my uncle goes to,” he muttered, still painfully self-aware that he was bringing up the things Zack had admonished him for… but he wanted to help. He didn’t know how else to help other than reassure Zack that there were _other_ people out there, like him, living their lives… their _best_ lives, despite everything that life had thrown at them.

“Ah. I’ll have to go to something like that?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Probably couldn’t hurt.”

Zack huffed and looked at where Cloud still held his hand.

Cloud looked down as well, fighting the urge to jerk out of the hold. Zack needed him right now. He didn’t know why it _had_ to be _him_ in particular, especially after Zack had told him to get lost. He ignored how much that thought heated him up, and simultaneously ached. “Why’re you so against getting help?” he asked with mild frustration.

Zack sighed out heavily and rolled his head around a little. “I’m not—okay… I… it’s hard accepting help. I—but I understand I _need_ to. After you left—”

“You mean after you told me to _get lost,”_ Cloud bit with the spark of hurt that couldn’t be ignored.

Zack grimaced. “Cloud… I…. I’m so sorry. Sorry for _everything_ I said. I…” He bowed his head and scrunched up his face. “I was so scared and angry. I… didn’t want you to see me like _this.”_ He looked at his legs, a disgusted wince pulled his features tight. “I wanted you gone, but then I…” his voice died in his throat. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting so crazy. I should have listened to you earlier. I’m a real fucking nutcase.”

While Zack’s words were definitely appreciated, Cloud also couldn’t take them completely on face-value either. He wanted to forgive Zack completely in his heart, and while he could forgive him _some_ of the way… words weren’t just wind. Not to Cloud. They stung. They hurt. They held kernels of truth. Zack _thought_ all those nasty things about him… somewhere inside. Deep, deep inside. 

But he refocused on Zack’s plight: "You're not a nutcase.” Cloud looked up and locked Zack into a stare. “You've got a serious and completely understandable mental health condition. And now you’ve got a life-threatening physical condition too. You just love collecting these things, don’t you," he grumbled.

A small admonished smile lifted Zack's lips and he huffed a little with laughter. “I did speak to my psychologist after you—after I came back to my senses.” Zack looked up at Cloud with a glimmer of hope.

Cloud breathed out a sigh of relief. He squeezed Zack’s hand and ignored the way his own palm felt so clammy in Zack’s warm touch. "How was it to talk about it with a professional?" 

Zack shrugged and looked at their hands again, rubbing his thumb against Cloud’s skin. "Alright, I guess. She’s got nothing on you, though. I like talking to you.”

Cloud’s stomach tightened. “You can find yourself another psychologist if you don’t like the one you have now.”

“No, it’s okay. The less people that know the better. I think I just have to get used to… talking about all my inside stuff. I mainly just want to focus on this leg thing,” he winced and some tears slid out, “I can’t believe it’s come to this. I… I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself.”

Cloud’s heart ached for the other man. “You’ll have support. You’ll get through this. Everyone wants to see you get through this. Your family and friends. Both who are here and who are not. They wouldn’t want to see you worried and scared.” He hoped he was encouraging, knowing how Zack felt about being one of the lucky ones who had survived such a horrible event.

“I know they don’t. Which is why I can’t show them.” Zack sighed again and looked at his blanketed knees for a moment and then over at Cloud. His gaze narrowed with a grimace. "I’m so sorry about your shirt.”

Cloud looked down at himself, noticing the dark patch where Zack’s tears had soaked into the fabric. Now that he noticed it, it felt clammy. Cloud’s chest squeezed around his heart. He pulled the wet material off his skin and shook it lightly to maybe facilitate the drying process. “It’s alright. If I had come over sooner…” he felt responsible for everything at that moment. He was such a colossal failure. He stared up, “You’d have gotten your surgery done already and wouldn’t be feeling this way. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“No. It’s not. It’s my fault. If I had listened to you, and talked to you instead of just… lashing out at you,” Zack’s gaze dropped away, “I just… feel so _angry_ at times—at myself—at what’s happening. I feel helpless and hopeless. Being stuck here… and for so _long_ —and this whole news about my leg…” Zack groaned and grimaced. “But I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry, Cloud. I’m so sorry for everything I said and did.”

Cloud _felt_ Zack’s sincerity. He gripped Zack’s hand a little firmer, offering reassurance.

“Everything’s so shit right now. I wanna… just… run away, beat the shit out of something… do… _something—squats!”_ A pained expression passed over Zack’s face. “I suppose I’ll never do a squat again in my life.” He cradled his head in his free hand and shook his head woefully.

Cloud kept holding on to Zack. He had no words of comfort to give—he was afraid of being insensitive and saying the wrong thing.

“No…” Zack said to himself, seeming to dig deep. “Look… maybe it’s not so bad. I can do one-legged squats. I’ve done it in the past.” He pressed his lips together and his eyes shimmered as he held back the tears. He took a deep breath, chasing away the sorrow. “I’ll figure something out. But for now I’m stuck here. I can’t move. I have no freedom. That _kills_ me most of all, I think. Being cooped up in here. Not having a say in much of anything. The idea of being here for _longer…”_ Zack grunted.

Cloud squeezed Zack’s hand again. He hated that he couldn’t fix things or make it better. “I’m sorry. I should have come sooner instead of being pissy at you,” is all he found to say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing you’ve done made it right for me to be so snappy with you. It’s not your fault. I don’t ever want you to blame yourself. I’ve made my own bed and I’m really lying in it right now.” The grim expression was back on Zack’s face for a moment before he turned his attention back on Cloud. “When all of this is over, and if I get out of here—”

 _“When,”_ Cloud corrected, netting him a small smile from Zack.

 _“When_ I get out of here,” the other man restated. His gaze fell to their hands then back up. He held Cloud’s attention in his watery stare, “I’d like to take you out for dinner. To properly say thank you for _everything_ you’ve ever done for me.”

Cloud’s stomach dropped a little. “You really don’t need to.”

“But I’ll want to. It’ll give me something to focus on. I need to get out of here so I can take Cloud Strife out for dinner.”

Cloud’s stomach dropped the rest of the way. His cheeks prickled. He felt terrible, even if Zack didn’t blame him for the delay in treatment for his leg. And as much as he didn’t like being used… maybe being used in _some_ ways was okay? Zack was talking about motivation—staying strong—having things to look forward to, to speed up his recovery. Zack probably really _did_ like him. They were friends. Cloud understood that Zack needed hope for his future. If Cloud could give him that then… accepting Zack’s invite was the least he could do. “Oh… well, in that case… okay,” Cloud said with some reluctance.

“Thank you.” Zack managed a far greater smile than he had any other time this early afternoon and Cloud felt greater heat rise exponentially in his cheeks.

There came a knock on the door. Cloud pulled his hand away from Zack, scooched to the very edge of the bed, and sat up straight. The door opened, and in stepped—

 _“General,_ you’re back.” Zack’s military training came into full focus as he straightened his spine in attention and the emotion from before left his face.

Cloud wanted to drop dead as the tall, silver-haired man casually strode over toward them. The piercing sea-green eyes locked onto Cloud, who couldn’t hold the gaze and instead focused on Connie, the military grunt from before, hiding behind the door, taking a smug-looking peek like the piece of shit he was. Why did the General in charge _have_ to be _him?_

The tall man followed Cloud’s gaze. “Shut the door and do your patrol, soldier,” he ordered, cold as ice. The grunt gasped and quickly left, closing the door behind himself.

"Sergeant Fair," the General said coolly, barely looking at him. “Mr. Strife,” he almost husked, his full attention on Cloud. "You are needed for an interview, in private."

"I’m not letting you talk to him alone. Anything you have to say you can say to both of us,” Zack almost snarled, grabbing Cloud’s arm, pulling him back, whilst he simultaneously leaned forward in an aggressive and protective manner. 

Even in this moment; the height of discomfort, Zack's reaction flustered Cloud. It offered up a distraction and quelled some of his nerves. 

“It was not addressed to you, Sergeant,” the General monotoned, a dangerous quirk to his eyebrow. 

Zack riled up against it. “How dare yo—”

“ _Don’t—”_ the General boomed, a fierce menacing quaver to his timbre, “—speak out of turn and mind your tone. Or have you been away from the chain of command for too long to know how to address your superiors.”

Zack wilted, leaning back a bit and his hand slipped off Cloud.

“It’s okay,” Cloud said calmly, reaching out and touching Zack’s hands. He gave his most reassuring smile and stood up, “This is about why I wasn’t allowed to come in here, right?” he addressed the high-status military man.

“It is.”

“Okay. Where should we do this? Do you have an office?”

“I do.” The General gestured to the door.

Cloud nodded and itched to leave the room and get out of sight from everyone, especially whilst in the General’s company. If he could get this over and done with quickly— _quietly_ —maybe it would all be forgotten about. And that meant getting away from Zack, for the man was anything _but_ quiet.

“Cloud—” Zack looked at him, his brow etching with deep worry.

“I’ll be back,” Cloud smiled over his shoulder as he followed the General out.

“That will largely depend on how the interview goes, Mr. Strife,” the General got out with a frosty undertone.

Cloud glared at the other man’s back, turned around and mouthed, _‘I’ll be back,’_ to Zack, who’s concern didn’t seem to abate.

Once he left the seclusion of Zack’s room he felt exposed. Walking in the tall, imposing man’s shadow made his heart race and his stomach churn. He walked with his head bowed, wishing for his baseball cap to avoid being seen by anyone. Thankfully, the tall man hurried along, his long legs making short work of the corridor. Cloud had to go double the pace to keep up. 

They arrived at a door near the nurses’ station, the General unlocked and opened it for Cloud and invited him into his temporary office. There was a desk, featuring a computer, a pile of hard drives, and stacks of papers. 

“Please have a seat,” the man motioned to the chair on the other side of the business end of the desk. Cloud went to sit, feeling relieved over being out of the public space, yet also a sense of nervousness encroached on him as he sat before the imposing man, who also took his seat. 

“Thank you for willingly coming along to help assist with this investigation.”

Cloud nodded, biting his tongue around there not having been any other choice. He did, however, say, with a hard edge to his words, “Why’m I being singled out and what exactly am I being interrogated about?”

“This is an _interview,_ Mr. Strife _,”_ the General stressed, shuffling the items on the desk around, and getting paper to write on. “It is the same interview I have conducted with everyone else that has been flagged as needing to be followed-up. You are not being singled out.”

Stupidly, Cloud wasn’t sure if he felt happy or disappointed over that. “Can you drop the icy persona and the _Mr. Strife_ business?” 

The man huffed with exasperation and stopped his rifling for a moment. “I need to conduct this interview process profess—”

“And I get that, but you don’t have to act so inhumane. You’re making me feel like I’ve done something wrong when I haven’t and you know how feeling stressed out never helps me.”

Sephiroth let out an audible breath with the slightest hint of amusement. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed Cloud carefully before saying, “I suppose we could chase some pleasantries before we get down to business. You’re looking well.”

“Thanks.”

Sephiroth pursed his lips and stared at Cloud for a long moment. “I was really surprised to hear you embroiled in all of this. I made it my priority to get assigned to this case.” 

A tingle went through Cloud. He freed himself from it. “Does my mom know?”

Sephiroth shook his head. “The Defense Committee thought it prudent not to involve anyone from your family, to uphold the integrity of this investigation.”

“They think my parents would cover for me if I did something wrong,” Cloud stated flatly whilst the outrage quietly bubbled up.

“It is about _integrity_ and making sure no one’s name gets unduly tarnished. We cannot have the media and public scrutinize our ethics and due process.”

Cloud crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, right. I should have guessed. It’s about keeping my _parents_ image clean, instead of protecting me.”

“You are part of the family. You will be treated as such and all due care will be taken to run a fair and just investigation.”

“But they let _you_ head the investigation.”

“I am impartial.”

“Sure, that’s why you ‘made it your priority’ to come down here when you knew I was involved somehow.”

Sephiroth sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You are still as difficult as ever, I see.”

“I haven’t seen you in forever and all of a sudden you’re here and I’m being accused of doing something which I have no idea about. It’s all a bit much, so I think I’m allowed to be _difficult.”_

“You are the one who has been keeping his distance from me,” Sephiroth said softly.

“Yeah, that’s why you haven’t come to the last four Christmas parties, right? Because _I’m_ keeping away.”

Sephiroth sighed. “What do you want me to say? I know I make you uncomfortable. I know you find your family get-togethers difficult. I’ve stayed away because I didn’t want to add to your discomfort.”

“You should have _asked_ me instead of making that choice _for_ me. You’ve always been the _best_ part of those awful family gatherings,” Cloud snapped and sank down into his chair, hunching his shoulders in the process.

A clock ticked. The air conditioning quietly hummed. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, Cloud.”

Cloud frowned and huffed. He didn’t know either. “I… don’t like you coming in and out of my life whenever it suits you best.”

“That was never my intention.” His chest rose and fell sharply. “There isn’t much to be gleaned from treading over personal histories, so,” he cleared his throat, “forgive me if I would much rather care to move on.”

“We haven’t actually had any _pleasantries._ It’s still all just shop talk.”

Sephiroth sighed so hard it almost sounded like a growl. “How have you been? And can I get a little more out of you than abrasive stoicism?”

“Are you asking me in a non-interrogating capacity?”

“This is an intervi—” Sephiroth groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. A moment later he composed himself again. “Off the record, yes.”

Seeing the familiar frustration build and ebb in the man before him comforted Cloud a little. He could still read Sephiroth—could still push his buttons. He felt better for some semblance of control. Relaxing his shoulders, he sat up a fraction straighter. “I’m okay. I’ve been working as a delivery driver for the last two years. The company is good and the owner works with me around my specific needs.”

The hint of a smile brushed Sephiroth’s face. "What did you do the two years before that?”

“I moved around a bit. Tried my hand at becoming a mechanic, but I prefer doing the deliveries for now.”

“You always did enjoy tinkering with machines.” Sephiroth’s face lightened a little further.

“I might get back into it in the future. I’m not sure yet,” Cloud said.

“Why deliveries? Driving all day must be taxing.”

Cloud hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve gotten used to it. Unless there’s a massive jam I find driving relaxing. And the job’s not too bad and gives me a stable income. I never found a boss willing to put up with my sleep schedule while I was doing apprentice work.”

“Ahh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Cloud shrugged. “It’s what it is.”

Sephiroth hummed. “How are you managing yourself overall with your health? Is it causing you issues at your current work?"

"No. I’m fine. My boss is okay with me coming in at my own time. She limits my workload to keep my stress levels down and I try and get as much sleep as possible."

"Are you _actually_ following the recommendations and are you making sure you _don't_ take on _more_ than what you've been given to do?" An actual smile flourished on Sephiroth’s face, soft and affectionate.

Cloud, abashed, tried to hide his own smile. He shrugged, "You know."

Sephiroth laughed. "I _do_ know. You always work too hard, even when it is advised for you not to."

Cloud basked in the warm glow of familiarity that oozed between them. An old sensation and intentionally held-back emotion stirred inside himself. Fortunately, Sephiroth's smile melted, he cleared his throat and with it, the embers inside of Cloud extinguished, because _he_ _knew_ Sephiroth, and knew when the man turned serious.

"I would like to commence the interview portion of our meeting now."

Cloud gestured for him to go ahead.

Sephiroth sat up straight, shuffled his papers, and produced a folder from under the desk on which Cloud caught his name before the front cover was flipped open. It was a pretty hefty folder.

"Do you know why you have been classified as a person of interest?"

Cloud swallowed, his stomach knotted. "I assume it's something to do with Zack and the media that's outside."

"What do you know about it?"

"Nothing. I haven't been following the news. Though… I guess it might be about his leg?"

Sephiroth made some thoughtful noises, setting Cloud on edge. 

"What do you know about it?" Sephiroth asked.

"He needs to have an amputation."

"How long have you known for?"

"Maybe an hour? He told me today."

"Has anyone from the media or someone you suspect to have some connection to the media ever contacted you?"

"No… well… a while back—when Zack was being moved—I _did_ have some media tail me for a while. I was asked things, but I never told them anything.”

“I see.” Sephiroth scribbled some notes.

Cloud thought about the situation some more. “There’s…” he chewed the next point over in his head, not wanting to throw anyone under the bus, but also not wanting the bus to be solely on top of him either, “Zack has a friend who is a photo-journalist? I met him once."

"Do you know this friend’s name?"

Cloud drew his lips into a tight line.

"Chances are high he has already been flagged for follow-up."

"Kunsel. I don't know if that's his first or last name."

"Thank you, Cloud." Sephiroth kept writing things as he spoke, "I will read out a list of dates and I would like you to tell me your whereabouts or the nature of your visit with Sergeant Fair if you recall any of them."

Sephiroth read out a list of dates. The precision and detail unnerved Cloud. He struggled to recollect what he had done and where he had been for a good portion of the questioned times. He cited the monotony of his hum-drum life as reason for not being able to answer the questions concisely and suggested Sephiroth check with his boss to see the business logs and timesheets.

"Thank you. I will certainly take that suggestion under advisement for further investigation. Now… I'll ask you something that should be fresh in your mind; what about last week? Where were you?” 

"I was at work on Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday… I… stayed at home,” Cloud could see Sephiroth quirk an eyebrow. “I was at home until today, really.”

"What reason?"

"My condition."

"Is it really? When I look at your absenteeism and cross-reference with the hospital visits a pattern emerged."

"What pattern?" Cloud leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of what Sephiroth cobbled together on his notepad, but the man shielded it from view.

"I am making an observation."

"One that feels awfully like you are accusing me of something."

"Why were you absent from work and the hospital?"

“I…" Cloud grumbled to himself, wondering if he should tell the other man, "had an argument with Zack on Sunday. It left me feeling pretty down.” Cloud detested how furiously Sephiroth scribbled his notes.

“What was the argument about?”

Cloud groaned, wishing he could get out of this, but he knew he had done nothing wrong, so to lie about things now would incriminate him. Plus, Sephiroth could read him rather well. “He was keeping secrets from me."

“What sort of secrets?”

“The leg.”

“You knew about it before today?”

“No. He told me today.”

“So why did you have the argument on Sunday?”

“I could see something was wrong, and I confronted him about it. He didn’t tell me anything and we got angry at each other, so I left and then I couldn’t get up anymore the next few days after that.” 

“Do you two fight a lot?”

“No.” He wasn't sure if disclosing about Zack's mental health was appropriate, so he kept that to himself. 

“Is there anyone who can vouch for you being at home over this period of time? Did you have any visitors? Did neighbors see you?”

“No. I didn’t speak to anyone or see anyone. I don’t… socialize much, and you know how I get when my condition gets really bad.”

“Was it severe?” Concern softened Sephiroth’s voice.

“N-no… it was… about a six out of ten. I just… didn’t want to get up. I probably could have, but I just didn’t want to.” He thought it was probably bad to admit to that because it might sow seeds of doubt, but Cloud also didn’t want to cause worry.

Sephiroth remained quiet for a bit, consulted his papers, wrote things, read things, glanced up at Cloud. Then he came to a rest and asked, “Did you ever consult his charts? Spoke with staff assigned to the Sergeant?”

“I… no, I never looked at his things. I asked Bernice Clarke what the matter was with Zack because he wouldn’t tell me, but she wouldn’t tell me either, so,” he shrugged.

Sephiroth hummed. “Interesting.” He tapped his pen on some papers. Cloud could see the gears turning. “What would you call your relationship with Sergeant Fair?"

"R- _relationship?"_ Cloud almost coughed, feeling the apples of his cheeks, as well as his ears, begin to burn. 

"Yes." Sephiroth looked on, expectantly.

It felt too personal. Cloud wanted to recoil from the question. "I do flower deliveries for Aerith Gainsborough. She’s a regular client of our service. She’s the reason why I see Zack."

Sephiroth flipped through some pages. "It says here the last delivery she ordered for the Sergeant and which was delivered by yourself was three weeks ago, but CCTV footage shows you coming and going pretty regularly after that." Sephiroth held Cloud in a long stare.

Cloud clenched his jaw.

"I'll ask you again, maybe worded differently… would you say there is a camaraderie between you and the Sergeant?"

"I deliver flowers."

Sephiroth sighed. "You are allowed to say he's a friend. Would you say he's a friend?"

He didn't know why he balked and felt a rise of disgruntled heat inside himself at Sephiroth putting it like that. He grit his teeth and gave a curt nod. “I guess.”

Sephiroth let out a minuscule huff of amusement before casually saying, "Would you say you two are close?"

"What does that question have anything to do with this?" Cloud almost shouted, gripping the armrests of the chair he sat in.

"Just answer the question."

Cloud puffed and muttered, "He trusts me and… I… trust him." His throat felt dry admitting that.

“How much does he trust you?”

A part of Cloud screamed internally how it was clearly not _a lot_ , while the other half of him… he got a bad feeling. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

"How would you describe Sergeant Fair's morale?"

The glare grew on Cloud’s face. “As good as can be expected for someone who’s gone through as much crap as he’s been through.”

“Language,” Sephiroth warned. “In your experience, could you entertain a scenario wherein Sergeant Fair would be disloyal to his relations and duty?”

Cloud’s mouth drew together with disgust. “No,” he spat, hating the insinuation behind it. Of course the military would suspect someone who’d sacrificed so much for them. Bile rose in the back of Cloud’s throat. He didn’t want to take any further part in this farce. “Are we done here?” he asked, testily.

Sephiroth looked over his papers and collected them together. “Certainly. If I have any more questions I’ll be in touch. Please write your best contact details; number and email, here on this consent form.” Sephiroth pushed a piece of paper across the desk to Cloud.

“I get the consent form _now? After you’ve interrog—interviewed_ me,” he corrected, his voice hitching.

“This form is consent for follow-up questions.”

“Do I have to fill it out?”

“It would be in your best interest not to be obstinate and to comply with the request.”

“Fine. But if you wanted my number you should just ask instead of running me through all of this.” He quickly scribbled down his details with as much resentment as possible and pushed the pen and paper back at Sephiroth. “Are we done now? Can I go?”

“Yes. Let me accompany you though. I have a few questions to ask your friend.”

* * *

They went back to Zack’s room, to the obvious relief of the sole occupant of the space. 

“Oh good, you’re back.” Zack flung his arms out and sat up.

Cloud flushed, mortified over the gesture. He could feel the General next to himself and heard the little ‘ _humpf’_ from him. He looked at Zack: his expectant face, the tremble in those arms. Cloud… _couldn’t_. He couldn’t let himself be wrapped up in a hug. What _message_ would that send? His _relationship_ with Zack… Cloud gulped and stiffly walked over, but not into Zack’s awaiting embrace, but around the side of the bed, to the deep blue guest chair, which now had the company of several other, harder plastic chairs. 

Zack’s eyes followed Cloud around. His arms slowly—much too slowly—dropped back to his sides.

Cloud sat down, unable to hold his head up high to look Zack in the eyes. He already knew that he’d be greeted with a disappointed scowl.

“What's wrong?” Zack asked, breathlessly.

“Nothing.” Cloud looked up—yup, he saw the wide-eyed, shocked and disappointed face staring back at him.

Zack turned and rounded on Sephiroth who had come a fraction closer to the right side of the bed. “He didn't leak anything,” Zack snapped, a roar of anger rumbling his words.

“You sound overly certain of this, Sergeant,” the General said pointedly.

An audible gasp was followed by, “He _didn’t!”_ Zack swiveled his head around to look at Cloud, bewildered, utterly disbelieving. “Cloud! _You didn’t!_ Tell him you didn’t! _”_ he said with burning conviction.

Cloud stared, shocked at Zack’s emphatic defense and faith in him. Discomfort formed a tight ball in Cloud’s stomach. His cheeks blazed with heat. “No. I didn't. Relax.” He looked down and reached out for Zack’s hand, affording the other man that small touch, though he felt the General’s judging eyes on him: the knife of embarrassment twisted ever deeper.

Zack grasped and held on with frightening strength. The tremble in his limb subsided a fraction.

Cloud felt awful for having denied Zack the hug, but he also felt alarmingly exposed, especially with all eyes on him. If he had hugged Zack he’d have felt even worse. “What did you want to tell Zack?” Cloud asks the General, refocusing them all.

“Hm, yes. Have you been able to think of any more names of people who have visited you?”

“No. I’ve given you all the information I can think of.”

The General flipped through a chart he had taken with him. “I count… fifty-seven personnel who have had access to you and your room, a quarter of those not in the military or nursing staff.”

“I have a lot of friends,” Zack shrugged, “and have made many more while stuck here,” he flashed a small smile at Cloud, which made him heat up to the tips of his ears and roused a slight flutter in his stomach. "I can't believe you suspect him,” Zack grumbled at the General and softly squeezed Cloud’s hand.

"We suspect a great many people. This situation isn't isolated to just one guest you've had in here. We should have never allowed you to remain here unsupervised for this amount of time. We'll be putting forth a transfer order shortly.”

 _"No!"_ both Zack and Cloud said, with the former doing so rather loudly. Both men looked at each other; Zack surprised, Cloud abashed.

The General looked between them, with a long stare directed at Cloud, causing him great discomfort. Sephiroth spoke again, "Neither one of you has any say in this matter.”

Just then, there came a knock at the door and it opened. The General turned and walked toward the woman with blonde hair, dressed in a light-gray uniform. He stopped and she quietly muttered something into his ear. Zack and Cloud watched on.

The General rose to his full height. "Excuse me, gentlemen. There seems to be an unsubstantiated leak circulating. We may have our culprit soon, but Mr. Strife, you are _not_ permitted to leave here until I return." 

“How long will _that_ take?” Cloud stared in disbelief.

“Unsure.” With that, Sephiroth left, shutting the door.

Both men slumped and sighed, releasing tension.

“Well, that’s great timing,” Zack remarked, “you might be off the hook in a little bit.”

That certainly made Cloud breathe a little easier. He looked at Zack, who smiled, and despite all the wastage and sickness leaving a heavy toll on his body, looked very happy.

The squeeze to Cloud’s hand alerted him to the fact that he was _still_ holding Zack’s hand. He let go and straightened up, pulling his arm back against himself. “When did this all start?”

“What? The media circus?”

“And having the military back in here.”

“Pretty much the day after you left.”

“What happened?” Cloud inquired.

“Some journalists showed up. Bernie told them to back off. I think she called the brass. I’ve had Connie and Lionel out there, _protecting_ me,” Zack did air quotes, “since that evening.”

Cloud’s stomach dropped. “Lionel? Lionel _Jensen?”_

“Yeah. You know him?” 

A resounding ' _fuck'_ screamed through Cloud’s head. “I, ah… I went to basic training with him.”

“Oh. Okay. Is… everything okay?”

Cloud’s hands and brow became a little clammy. “Y-yeah. Yeah,” he said hastily. “Just didn’t expect him to be here.”

“Ah. Okay. What about the General?” 

Cloud stiffened.

Zack continued, “Do you know each other? The way you talk to him is ballsy,” Zack huffed out an amused breath.

“Yeah. We know each other. Everyone knows my family. He works with mom.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Zack chuckled.

Cloud looked for something to change the subject to. “So what's happening about this leak? You mentioned journalists.”

“There's been reports about stuff that's happening to me which shouldn't be circulating around." Zack grimaced. "It's been getting out to the local and national news anchors.”

“Oh. Shit. That’s bad, huh?”

“Yep. Must be a slow news day for anyone to be interested in me.”

“I don’t know… you’re a pretty big deal still… I think,” Cloud brushed off, hoping to sound casual.

Zack gave Cloud a small, albeit warm smile.

Cloud cleared his throat. “So, uh… who do you think has been talking to the media?”

Zack shrugged. “Could be anyone. General Sephiroth _is_ right. Too many people do have access to my room, but I don’t want to be sent anywhere else. I know the nurses. I swear Bernie is coming around to me. She smiled the other day.” He grinned, all sorrow and heartache from before non-existent.

Cloud marveled at the change, wondering how genuine it was. His gaze fell to his hand, feeling oddly empty as he rested it on his thigh.

“Um,” Zack’s smile slipped. “You never answered me. Will you be here for my surgery? Can I count on you being the first thing I see when I wake up?”

Zack’s words dropped into Cloud’s stomach like lead. All the disquiet from before raised up and pushed to the forefront of his mind. He tried to ignore the questions around sincerity and about being used. He told himself it shouldn't really matter—not in this instance. Anyone in Zack’s shoes was entitled to be selfish, and entitled to feeling comfortable. At least Cloud could recognize that, for whatever reason, _he_ made Zack comfortable; comfortable to open up, to talk, to listen. That felt like a salient point. 

What had the question been again? Zack still looked at him, expectantly. “I can’t really go anywhere. I’m stuck here.”

“Yeah, but…” Zack’s face fell gravely.

Cloud instantly felt bad for having missed the actual point of the question. Not thinking about it in any depth, he committed with a, “Yeah, I’ll be here, whether I’m stuck here or not.” 

That response brightened Zack, who said, “Thank you,” with a smile.

Gently, Cloud revisited the previous conversation, still wishing for some clarity, “Why didn't you tell me all this stuff about your leg up on the roof? Why didn't you get the operation earlier? I get you’re scared but… is that all it is or is there something more?”

“You looking to shrink me?” Zack laughed a little.

“No. I just…” Cloud shook his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Zack tilted his head in question. 

A need to blurt stuff out overcame Cloud. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore. After… after what you said to me on the roof I feel like… anything I _want_ to say might upset you. You don’t like it when I tell you things. You don’t like it when I try to help, and, sure, maybe that’s fair.” He shrugged. “I’m not trained in this stuff. I don’t know how to help anyone, not even myself, but I keep feeling like you _want_ stuff from me and I… I just…” he ran out of steam and could only cast a brief look over to Zack.

With his mouth slightly agape, Zack sat and blinked several times, before he closed his mouth and swallowed. He leaned forward, startling Cloud, who leaned back. “I appreciate _everything_ you tell me, _always._ I appreciate your knowledge. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I'm sorry for everything I said. I was so upset with myself and I let it out on the one person I—” Zack grimaced. “I'm so sorry.” 

Cloud tried to let Zack’s heartfelt words sink in. “But you still said that stuff. You think it. You feel it. And now that you _need_ me you’re trying to make it up to me.”

Zack stared, his eyes and mouth wide.

“Say you don’t. Lie to me and say you don’t,” Cloud egged on.

“I… I d… I think you have a good heart. I think you’re trying to help me. I _know_ I’m a stubborn asshole. I get that you’re frustrated with me and that’s why you kept pushing me.” Zack scowled at the bedding. “Did you hurt me and annoy me? Fuck yes. Do I need it?” He looked up. “Also _fuck yes._ And I also hurt and annoyed you right back.” 

Zack reached for Cloud, his palm facing up. “I’m arrogant and selfish and feel sorry for myself when things aren’t going my way. I _hate_ what’s happened and about to happen to me, but I’m so glad I got to meet you, and that’s the God-honest truth, Cloud. So please don’t censor yourself around me.” Zack looked down at where he still held out his hand to Cloud. “Ask me and tell me whatever you want to ask or tell me. I’ll always listen to you. I might not _action_ it, but I’ll listen.” He tacked on a small smile.

Cloud looked at Zack’s gesture of goodwill and, as if drawn to it by an outside force, placed his hand in Zack’s. His fingertips tingled and his body vibrated with a tiny current which seemed to short-circuit his natural breathing rhythm. He took a couple of swallows and despite feeling self-conscious about giving Zack _platitudes,_ he said, “I want to understand what it’s been like for you. The stuff with your leg. Why you wouldn’t tell me. Why everything…” he pulled a face, “ _went_ how it did, last time I saw you.”

Zack played with Cloud’s fingers for a moment: rubbing his knuckles, stroking his cuticles, and fingering the tips of Cloud’s nails.

The touch made Cloud all tingly inside. His palm felt clammy, but Zack didn't comment. He just kept focusing on Cloud's hand, until—

“I didn’t want to worry you. I wanted to ignore it all. I don't want this to happen to me,” Zack said quietly. “I'm scared shitless about having no choice or say in this. I hoped it would get better, but it didn't. I tried to hold out to give my body a chance to repair itself for as long as possible.” He stared vacantly down at their hands. “But it only got worse and worse and now my worst nightmare’s coming true.” His eyes began looking wet again. “I don't know how to go on after this. A part of me… wants to die,” he whispered, “on the operating table.” Zack took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. “I still wish none of this happened to me—I wish a bullet had gotten me straight in the head,” his voice quavered and he cupped his cheek where the scar sat.

 _“Zack,”_ Cloud pressed softly, but with intent. “You don’t want to, right?”

“What? Kill myself?”

Cloud nodded.

Looking pained, Zack said, “I don’t want to kill myself, but I wish I could just be dead. Does that make sense?”

Cloud nodded. He could barely breathe.

Zack squeezed his eyes shut, and tightened his grip on Cloud’s hand. He took a deep breath. _“That’s_ how I feel,” he said with steely conviction. “ _That’s_ what’s going on. I don’t like feeling these things. I don’t like being this way. I don’t like people worrying about me. But every day I’m here I sink deeper into this shit, and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to shake it, even when I leave. People will always look at me differently now. I’ll look at myself…” His nose wrinkled with a grimace.

Cloud’s heart pounded in his stomach. He held on tight to Zack to stop his own trembling. “You can get through this. You told me you were strong, so _be_ strong. It’s not the end of the world _or_ the end of your life _._ Your family and friends will understand. I’m sure they'll still see the great guy that’s inside, especially if you can see him too. You can beat this and get better, and… and you’ll probably get a really kickass leg or foot or whatever.”

Zack puffed, whether in sadness or amusement Cloud couldn’t tell. “I feel anything _but_ strong.” He let go of Cloud’s hand and leaned back against the bed’s backrest, with the pillows fluffed up behind him. “I… I feel like a stupid baby, always crying.” He frowned. “That’s why I said what I said to you—not _because_ of you, but because of _me._ You’re right. If I don’t want to be babysat I need to man up and stop this self-pitying bullshit. No man worth their salt would be caught dead like this,” he said gravely.

Cloud frowned. Some of the sting Zack had inflicted on him last week actually left. “You need to stop thinking that way. You’re allowed to feel upset about this—about your leg. You’d be weird if it _didn’t_ affect you.”

Zack sighed and grimaced. “I guess… I never thought I’d find myself in a position like this. I never thought I’d lose—” he swallowed, “my legs. They’re everything to me. The doctors said they’ll probably—” he took a deep, steadying breath, “have to take it off at the knee.”

Cloud grimaced. “Oh. That’s a lot.”

Zack nodded. “It is, and I can’t imagine life after. There’s nothing for me after. I’ll be useless to myself and society. I’ll be a burden to everyone I meet and everyone will say, ‘Look at Zack, he was able to do stuff, now he just sits there and feels sorry for himself.’ And I don’t want to be that guy. I’ve never been that guy to wallow and mope… but look at me now.” He grimaced with disgust and a fat tear rolled down his cheek.

Cloud looked on, still feeling self-conscious as he softly said, “It doesn't have to be like that. There are a lot of people who live full and meaningful lives even after an amputation. It’s all about what you make of the situation, so if you don’t want to sit around feeling sorry for yourself you won’t.” He really hated seeing Zack so out and down about himself and his future prospects. Something about it didn’t feel right.

Zack grumbled and scowled. “Yeah… but…”

“No buts! What about your friend… the one who lost his arm? He seemed happy when he visited you.” Maybe if Zack couldn’t be positive for himself Cloud had to try.

Zack sat in pensive silence, his gaze on his lap. Cloud kept watching and wishing he could do something to ease Zack’s great distress.

Without moving, Zack’s eyes flicked over to Cloud. “You know that day you met Kunsel?”

“Yeah?”

“He…” a shadow of a wince passed Zack’s face, “I got him to come over so he could help me wash my hair. I couldn't even wash my own fucking hair. I was completely helpless and that was the most humiliating thing I've ever had to ask someone to do for me. It took my breath away to even lift my arms up above my shoulder. Everything hurt and I couldn’t have a proper shower because of all the bandages. And… shit, man. The day I saw myself naked…” 

Zack shook his head, pain etched on his face and clung to his words as he said, “I didn’t even recognize who I was looking at. I _still_ don’t recognize who this body belongs to,” he looked down at himself, forlorn. “And now I'm imagining hobbling around on one leg and how humiliating that will be and how much _more_ this body will change and… fuck… I just wanna throw up.”

Cloud found it heart-wrenching listening to Zack. He didn’t know how to comfort him. He’d probably say the completely wrong thing, but he was at a loss for anything else so, “At least throwing up is better than wishing for your own death.”

Zack huffed and grimaced, “Depends how you look at it. I mean, you said it yourself, if I’m being this pathetic, then it would be better to just be dead.”

Cloud scooched forward on his chair and placed his hands on the edge of the bed. He felt awful. “I’m so sorry, Zack. I said things to you I shouldn’t have said either.”

“You’re right though. If I can’t even help myself what’s the point of going on?” 

“No. I wasn’t right. This is really hard for you and… I mean, you _do_ need to be willing to accept help _but…_ I’ve been wrong to push you so hard. To keep hammering on about the same points.” He felt sick. “I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence. Something unpleasant-looking danced across Zack's face in the way his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth drew in. Dark eyes found Cloud. Zack’s expression turned graver for a nanosecond. He reached for Cloud’s hand and they both held each other firm.

A whisper of a smile flickered across Zack’s face before it was swallowed up again by tremendous pained sadness. “Thank you,” he breathed with a rasp.

A heavy stone rolled off Cloud’s chest. He cupped Zack’s hand in both of his. “Things will get better. Just think… you can wash yourself now, right? Your body doesn't hurt so much anymore, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zack muttered.

“Things were worse before and they got better. Things are bad now. But they’ll get better. The future _will_ get better. It will. It has to. And you’re hanging in there and doing okay.”

They both frowned at each other, Cloud with sadness, Zack with unbelieving despair.

Cloud wet his lips. “I get you don’t want to be here anymore. You wish this didn’t happen to you, and… I really don’t know how you manage to even put up that positive front of yours for as long as you do, but it’s normal to feel what you’re feeling. You’re going through a huge change, but soon you’ll be used to your new way of life—”

“I don’t _want_ a new way of life,” Zack snapped at Cloud, his eyes shimmering with the onset of tears, “I loved my old life.”

“I’m sorry but… it’s gone. You can’t get it back. You can either live in the past or you can make a new life for yourself and… I'll help you get through this. If you really _will_ listen to what I might have to say I’ll keep talking to you. I’ll be here with you until you get out of here.” Cloud felt on the brink of his own tears for some reason. He tacked on, with a smile, “And if I get too annoying, please tell me before you blow up at me again.”

Zack looked at Cloud for a while, a tear eventually falling as he blinked. “Cloud… you’re so good to me. How can I…” Zack took up Cloud’s hand again— _both_ this time. “When are you leaving? For how long?”

The realization came crashing down. “Oh… three weeks. I…” he felt so bad. “I can cancel the trip. I can stay here with you.”

Zack smiled and gave a gentle squeeze to Cloud’s hands before releasing and dropping them down gently. “You're a saint. But I can’t accept that. You deserve a holiday. Where’re you going?”

“Just back home to see my family. But I really don’t need to. It’s nothing special.”

“No, you should definitely go. Family is everything,” Zack delivered that with incredible earnestness.

“Yeah, well…” Cloud drawled.

“Hmm…?”

Cloud shrugged.

“You’re not really keen on going?”

Cloud breathed deep and felt a bit sick. “No… I mainly wanted to get away from my boss and… you, to be honest.” He wore a grimace. “I really didn’t like what happened.”

Zack remained quiet. The frown on his face intensified. He eventually looked up from where his gaze had sunken to. “How can I make it up to you? I can’t take back what I said and I think I said unforgivable things to you. Things I don’t believe. I’m upset at myself and my situation. You were there, trying to cheer me up when all I wanted to do was scream and feel sorry for myself. …I’m a big idiot. I’m such an asshole for hurting you. Can you ever forgive me?”

Cloud soaked up Zack’s words. He itched to hold Zack’s hand again. Should he forgive him? The leg thing aside… if Zack was fine and not so emotional, would he be able to forgive? He didn’t want to be manipulated by emotions. He thought about _everything_ they had talked about—it was so much. _Too_ much. He felt it in his soul though: a readiness— _eagerness._ He could never forget what had happened but… “Being an asshole is your redeemable feature.” He tried at a smile though the sad look in Zack’s eyes affected him deeply. “And…” he shrugged one shoulder. “I’m no angel either. So… if you can forgive me, then I can forgive you.”

Zack’s brows scrunched up and his lips trembled. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed down the tears. He nodded rapidly and picked up Cloud’s hand again, squeezing and rubbing. “I do. Thank you, Cloud,” he rasped. “Thank you.”

Cloud squeezed Zack’s hand back, reveling in the touch and wanting more of it—more of Zack. He dug deep for his smile, wanting to chase the bottomless sadness from Zack’s soul. “I want you to get better by being as brave as you were out there on the field when you risked your life for others. Be brave for yourself now, okay? And accept help. I get it, y'know, wanting to do things for yourself but just not being able to—sometimes you need to ask for help. Everyone needs help once in a while.” He thought of Tifa. Thought of… Sephiroth. Memories accosted him of slogging through the difficulties of his existence all by himself. He knew how hard it was. Now knew… the power of accepting help, even if he couldn’t ask for it. Maybe he really was a hypocrite as Zack had proclaimed. 

Zack turned his dejected gaze onto Cloud. They beheld each other for a while.

“Thank you for being here,” Zack muttered.

Cloud smiled in a way that could only be described as fragile. “It’s alright. But please don’t lash out at me again. It’s not my fault what happened to you.”

Zack grimaced and nodded vigorously. “You got it, boss. I won’t let you down. Not again.”

They shared a soft smile. Zack shifted his hold on Cloud and they interlaced their fingers.

Cloud looked down at their touch, feeling terribly warm and a knot tightened in his stomach. “I’m sorry I left you on the roof.”

Zack chuckled. “No… it was a good reminder that I do need to let people help me. It made me more pissed off at you at the time, but I got over it after I had some sleep.” He squeezed Cloud’s hand and they gazed at each other with warm regard. “Bernie came and got me. I’ve never been so glad to see her in my life,” he laughed with greater strength, but the light in his eyes flickered out. “As much as I want to get out of here… I also can’t imagine myself being anywhere else. Do you really think the General will move me? Are there any other major hospitals in this city?”

Cloud thought about it, furrowing his brow. “There are, but… I think this is probably the only one that has outpatient clinics for….” He didn’t want to say it. “Sephiroth will give a fair and impartial assessment of the situation, I know that much.”

“Shit.”

 _Shit_ indeed. Cloud looked at their clasped hands. He hated the thought of Zack being anywhere else, and that someplace else being too far for him to reach on a regular basis. “Oh,” he looked up, a thought popping into his head, “maybe I can pull some strings with mom while I’m back home? Make sure you don’t get moved? I’ll tell her that I think it’s better for you to stay where you’ve got an established base for your recovery.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

Cloud nodded.

“I'm elevating you to angel status.” Zack leaned across his bed, reached out and cupped Cloud’s cheek. 

The touch caused Cloud’s insides to tighten, His breath caught in his chest for a moment. “I’m not,” he denied, his voice too husky for his own liking.

“You're wrong. You _are_ an angel, Cloud. You’re one to me. Your mom must have known that when she gave you such a beautiful and fitting name.”

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe Cloud’s flushing feelings. Zack’s hand on him, his words—that tender smile. Cloud’s stomach turned into a butterfly house and his skin prickled with heat akin to a furnace. He couldn’t think of anything smart to say, so simply huffed and pulled Zack’s hand off himself. And out of the handhold.

“I feel stronger when I’m with you. I feel like I _can_ get through things when you’re around. Thank you, Cloud. Thank you for coming back to me, and for not giving up on me, even when that is all that I want to do at times.”

Meekly, Cloud said, “You’re welcome,” and it seemed like the dumbest thing to utter, but Zack smiled brighter, and Cloud’s heart melted. He found himself leaning closer toward Zack, wanting warm hands back on his cheek, around himself—a hug, a… kiss…. He didn’t know how to ask for any of it, and he never got a chance to try to find the words because another knock at the opening door had Cloud pull right away from Zack like he was toxic. 

Loud voices heralded the return of Zack’s parents and Aerith. Their expressions were somber, but on seeing Zack looking genuinely cheerful their spirits seemed to lift.

* * *

Cloud listened to Zack chat with his parents and Aerith. He got pulled into conversations and the general vibe of the room felt like there wasn’t a life-altering change about to befall one of them, though truly, it would probably affect _all_ of them.

Zack’s doctors and medical team walked in at about 3 in the afternoon. Zack greeted them like he possessed no care in the world. Before the medical team got really stuck into prepping Zack physically and medically, and going over the minute details of the procedure, Cloud and Aerith were asked to leave.

Zack put up no protest for them to stay.

“Do you want to go up to the garden?” Aerith asked, her hands behind her back, and swaying gently as they stood out in the corridor.

Cloud looked down the hall where he received a dangerous glare from the military goon who had tried to keep him out of the room before. “I was asked not to leave the room, so… I should probably stay here until I get the all-clear from the military General.” He also didn’t want to be too far away from Zack right now.

“Oh, that’s fair.” She looked over to where Cloud was receiving predatory death glares. “Can I get you a drink or anything? The vending machine seems to be past the shark,” she tittered, nodding her head over in that direction.

Cloud was about to decline but felt the woozy onset of exhaustion tug at the back of his head. “Something caffeinated would be good, thanks.”

“On my way!” Her skirt whirled as she stepped away.

Cloud went down the hall to the window and stared out at the carpark below and the few trees that swayed in the breeze. He felt anxious for Zack and didn’t like that Sephiroth was around. The combination of these things made him feel rather unwell.

His thoughts kept returning to Zack; the man’s request; ‘Be the first thing I see when I wake up.’ He’d agreed to it but now… on reflection…. The words sat in Cloud's chest, eliciting jittery nausea. Why did Zack talk to him like that? Calling him an angel. Beautiful. He had felt this familiar stirring before. It hadn't ended well then, and wouldn't end well now. Why was he destined to find military men attractive—Cloud shook his head and with a frown corrected himself… Zack _wasn't_ attractive. He was just good company. He had a great smile, and a nice laugh— _no…_ well, maybe… yes… 

As much as Zack had insisted that the things he’d said on the roof didn’t bear weight, Cloud still knew that they did. Just a tiny grain of truth was still a grain. Cloud _was_ a distraction. He couldn’t blame Zack for it. Not at all. Cloud thought, if he’d be in Zack’s position he’d absolutely love the company that Zack provided. He’d probably crave it. And as it stood… Zack served as distraction to himself, even if he wasn’t stuck in a hospital.

He sighed. What was wrong with him thinking this stuff all of a sudden? Zack was in pain and Cloud needed to remember that. He couldn’t indulge in nice feelings. _Shouldn’t—_

“Hey, Cloud!”

He jumped, hearing Aerith's voice behind him.

With a giggle, she held out an energy drink for him, which he graciously took with a, “Thanks.”

"You were lost in your thoughts?" Aerith came to stand right next to him, looking out the window.

"Today's been a really big day. A lot's happened." He gripped the can to steady the slight tremble in his hand, cracked it open, and took a long sip from his drink. The current circumstances were getting a bit too much for him.

“Yeah,” she said with sorrow.

“Did you know about this? About him needing an amputation?”

Aerith shook her head. “Not until the last few days. He doesn’t tell me much.”

Though he wrinkled his nose with irritation it was at least mitigated by the fact that he hadn’t been kept in the dark too much longer than other people. “Did you get questioned by the General?”

“Mm.” She nodded. “He’s a bit scary. I’d hate to see him in a fight. Like… I wouldn’t ever want to turn my back to him.” She twisted open her bottle of lemonade shuddered. “Did he talk to you too?”

“Yeah.”

They both sighed and drank their drinks, each lost in their own deep thoughts.

Cloud’s mind meandered back to the roof: the cruel words, and painful display of aggression. His heart still went out to Zack: his suffering… the tears and sobs. He squeezed his eyes shut. _‘Be the first thing that I see’…_ He was so out of his depth.

“Thank you for being here for Zack,” Aerith piped up quietly.

Cloud came back out of his pained feelings. “I don’t know what I can do. He asked me to be there when he wakes up. Did he ask you?”

Aerith glanced at him, shaking her head. “No.”

Cloud frowned. “Why not? I mean, he’s known you for longer. How _do_ you know each other?”

“Hmm… let me see…” she tapped at her lips. “It was about nine or ten years ago. Back then I was just starting out with my flower business. I basically lived out of a van, taking it from my home all around to sell what I grew. The old hunk of metal always kept breaking down. I knew how to fix it pretty well, but one day I got stuck in a ditch and,” her laugh tinkled, “Zack came along, just like that, in the middle of nowhere. He said he was training for the military and was out there running for miles on end. He helped me push the van to a service station about five miles back the way he had come. It was a very long way to go, pushing a broken truck. We got to know each other really fast.” The smile on her face mellowed and turned sad. “It’s just awful what has happened to him. Especially with his legs.”

Cloud stared out before himself, wordlessly.

“He doesn’t like showing the world that he’s vulnerable,” Aerith said quietly. “He can’t open up to me because he’s known me for too long. He doesn’t want the cracks in his façade to show. He’s stubborn like that. But you disarm him,” she smiled up at him. “He has no history with you to protect. He can be himself. Thank you for giving him that precious gift, Cloud. He’ll be at his lowest when he comes out of that surgery. He’ll need you then the most.”

Those words… that thought of being _needed_ by someone else…. A heavy burden dropped into his stomach. “I… I don't know if I can be there for him."

"Oh? Why not? I'm sure Tifa would be happy to give you the day off. Do you need me to speak to her?"

"No,” he shook his head, “it's not that. It's… I don't feel strong enough to be his emotional outlet." He had already tried once and that hadn't gotten Zack anywhere, really. Cloud didn't like being laden with such responsibility for someone else's life. "I can’t help him to channel all those terrible feelings into something useful. I have my own shit to deal with.”

“You don’t have to do anything special. Just being there for him is enough. Let him feel his feelings. I know when I, or his parents visit him, he always hides. He hides from the people who know him best. Thinks he can hide it, but we know. I know he’s hurting, but he won’t let us come close. But with you, it’s different. You’re right in there with his heart. You’re doing a wonderful job, Cloud. Don’t overthink things. You are enough how you are.” She gave him a warm smile.

Those words… touched him deeply. His voice vanished and luckily he didn’t have to reach for something to say because the sound of a door unlocking behind them made them turn around. The medical team left Zack’s room.

“Shall we?” Aerith motioned to the door.

Cloud looked over. “You go on without me. I’ll be in after I finish my drink,” he held up the can.

“Okay.” She smiled again and squeezed his arm before heading off.

Cloud turned his attention back to the window and sipped his drink, thinking of Aerith’s words. Was he _really enough?_ Could he ever be enough for someone the way he was? Could he be enough for Zack? Was he all that important? _Really?_ Would Zack ever have looked his way had they crossed paths in the military? Would Zack ever have _tried_ for him? He knew the answer: a resounding _no._ Cloud swallowed down the storm of negativity and tried to ignore the hurt these thoughts brought up.

“I thought I said for you not to leave the room,” a deep and calm voice sounded from behind.

Cloud had an indescribable sinking feeling puddle into his feet and yet… butterflies fluttered as well. He didn’t turn around. “I was asked to leave while the doctors talked to Zack and his parents. Plus, it’s not like I ran away. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Ah,” Sephiroth chuckled. “That you are. I’m glad they are taking the recommendations seriously.”

Cloud kept staring out the window, swirling the liquid in the can, and taking thoughtful sips.

"You have the world on your shoulders," Sephiroth remarked. "Are you thinking about your friend?"

"I don't know how to help him." Sephiroth was the safest person for him to talk to. Despite several years of no contact the positive associations he held toward Sephiroth still lingered. The man had always been a friend, a safe haven to confide his worries to, a harbor for his feelings... no matter how deep.

“I’m sure you will find a way. But I’ve come to tell you that the leak has been found. You are free to go.”

“Who was it?”

“That is not your concern.”

Cloud rolled his eyes.

“It was nice seeing you again,” Sephiroth said, even as he turned away.

“Seph.”

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t move Zack to another hospital.”

“I have to give the committee my recommendations and they make the final decision.”

“How soon will you do that?”

“The next few days.”

Cloud gulped. “He’s having a major operation. You can’t move him.”

“The recommendation will still be made and then he can be moved once his medical team has assessed him as stable.”

Cloud crunched the can in his hand and grit his teeth. “Surely there needs to be reports written up and… outcome predictions made. You can’t just give the committee your opinion. You need to do more digging. Tell them it will damage his health,” he pleaded. “He knows everyone here. He’s got more of a chance to make a quicker recovery _here.”_ He pointed at the floor.

Sephiroth’s neutral face etched deep with a frown before a smile spread. “It is good to see you caring for someone so deeply.”

“It’s not like that,” Cloud huffed, flushing.

Sephiroth cocked an eyebrow. “Well, it appears like he is very dear to you, and he speaks fondly of you, so maybe it could be like that one day.” Sephiroth reached out and squeezed Cloud’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you opening up to other people.”

Cloud shrugged off the touch, hyper-aware of the audience down the hall. “Can’t you postpone the committee making a final decision?”

Sephiroth hummed. “Maybe I will need to take a little longer to write up my report… be thorough and wait for a new medical assessment.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.” 

“Are you coming inside to tell Zack that you found the leak?” he tried as casually as possible.

In the blink of an eye, the warmth on Sephiroth’s face extinguished and the General stood before Cloud again. “I’ll make a brief entry, but then I need to go.”

“Already?” that news dropped heavily into Cloud’s stomach. “I know it’s for work but… you just got here. I… miss talking to you.”

A soft furrowing of the brows was accompanied by, “If you’d like we could try staying in touch. I do despise having to go through your mother to hear any news of you.”

Cloud smiled a little. “Did she tell you I’m going back home for a holiday?”

“I did hear something about that.”

“And?”

“And?” Sephiroth cocked an eyebrow. 

“I’m staying for three weeks.”

A smile played at the corner of Sephiroth’s lips. “Would you like me to make an appearance?”

Cloud shrugged. “It might be nice to go fishing again.”

“I can try to make some time in my schedule. Would you like me to?”

With his heart in his throat, he said, “Yes.”

“Very well.” Sephiroth nodded and with that, they went back into Zack’s room.

* * *

Zack sent everyone else away, leaving Cloud to wait with him in the pre-op room. It was more an antechamber; a small corridor big enough to house a hospital bed, some supply boxes, and a sink which was tucked away on the side.

The mood was tense and thick. Cloud couldn't get comfortable standing around or sitting on the edge of the bed like Zack had suggested to him.

Zack filled the space between them with nervous chatter about the procedure, about his surgeons hoping for the best; a cut below the knee to make recovery easier, but suspecting needing to cut above the knee. He looked sea-green as he talked, but couldn’t keep himself from talking. Cloud, by now, knew it was Zack’s way of stress-relief. 

"The stuff my surgeons are hoping for—Oss-inte-something-something is supposed to be really good. Though it also means I need to go in for surgery _again_ four to six weeks after this if everything goes well. Apparently learning to move with the higher cut is harder and recovery takes longer, but the general prospects and comfort levels are bigger. That sounds good, right? And since I'm not paying for it I might as well go for the bone-anchored amputation. My job prospects also improve that way, so win-win." Yet Zack wasn't smiling. He tapped his fingers against the blanket nervously and looked seasick. “I can get a light-weight carbon fiber leg with a microchip compressor knee thingy, and like, moving and sitting should be more comfortable. I wonder if I’ll be able to do squats… God… I miss stretching and exercising. Do you think I’ll be able to do squats again? Do you think it’ll be above or below the knee?” Zack looked at Cloud with desperation.

Cloud tried to give Zack a reassuring smile. He felt incredibly woozy on Zack's behalf. "I don’t know, but I know you'll be okay. You've got a really good team working on you. They’ll make the right call. They know your preferences."

"It doesn't matter who's working on me. It doesn't make me feel any better. I'm still wanting to… I don’t want to wake up from this. I don’t want my life to be like this. But I…” Zack blew out a big gust of air. “I also don’t want to _not_ wake up. But I'm scared to wake up and find something went terribly wrong with the operation. I'm scared that anything that goes wrong my parents will have to make a decision on. I'm scared over not having any control over this, other than what procedure I'm likely to have done, and even then I can't tell them to _not_ amputate above the knee, because if it needs to be done they'll do it. I hate this." He ground his teeth.

Cloud looked on with sympathy. He reached out, brushed his fingers against Zack's hand and the other man clasped him with a frightful strength born from sickening worry.

"I snuck Pumpkin in for you." Cloud produced the soft toy from his pocket.

Zack winced and took it from him with his free hand. "Thank you." He tucked the toy beagle under his blanket and stared up at Cloud with utter despair on his brows and pooling in his eyes.

"You'll be okay, Zack," Cloud whispered, his voice hoarse and dry.

Zack remained silent, but kept holding on to Cloud's hand until an orderly came to wheel Zack in. The man had a hard time letting go of Cloud.

"I'll see you when you're done," Cloud tried to reassure and watched the door close behind the other man.

The next few hours were going to be tough.

###### 

For once Cloud’s inability to sleep at night came in handy because he was awake when the hospital staff came in, giving the news that the operation went well. The family was invited into the post-op room at midnight. Cloud went by himself, per Zack's request. Each step closer to his destination had him feeling more nervous and apprehensive than the last.

He froze in place when he reached Zack's bed and saw his elevated and blanketed leg. It was strange seeing how it just _ended_ leaving a void where the rest of it _should_ have been. The cut looked well above the knee, which punched Cloud in his stomach. He felt terrible for Zack and didn’t know what he should do when the other man woke up. For now, he sat down and looked on with worry until the man roused from his anesthetic slumber. 

He held Zack’s hand, brushed at his hair, and waited, with sleep far from his mind. 

It took a while before Zack stirred, gasped, and gave Cloud a groggy smile. “Hey, beautiful angel,” he rumbled.

“Hi,” Cloud whispered, smiling softly while a storm of fluttering flurries churned inside. “How’re you feeling?”

Zack moaned. Cloud could see Zack wriggling his toes under the blanket. “Weird,” he muttered. “Thank you for making my dream come true.” He reached up with a strain and cupped the side of Cloud’s face.

Heat rose to Cloud’s face. He reminded himself that Zack was coming off his drug-high and was just babbling nonsense. He placed his hand on top of Zack’s, ready to pick the hand off himself… after just a moment longer of the physical contact against his cheek. “What dream?” he asked, feeling lost in a bit of a dreamy haze himself.

Zack stroked Cloud with his thumb. “You.” He smiled softly with eyes half-lidded. The alluring expression twisted. Zack winced and groaned as he tried to sit up.

“Hey, don’t move. Stay still—does it hurt?”

Zack shook his head and his hand slipped off Cloud. He tried to raise himself, using his hands. “No. Everything feels nice and fuzzy, like I’m wrapped up in a cloud.” A mellow smile and a tiny chuckle fell out of Zack.

Cloud rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t be mad at Zack right now. “You’re so high.”

“High on you.” Zack’s smile grew into a grin, but it fell promptly along with his head hitting the pillow. “How bad is it?”

Cloud shrugged and swallowed down everything Zack’s words had brought up for him. “They haven’t said anything, but…” He looked down at Zack’s blanketed legs and took a sharp inhale of breath. 

Zack winced before Cloud ever said anything. “Above the knee?”

“I think so.”

The feel-good haze dried up. “Shit. _Fuck_. Goddamn!” He punched the mattress.

Cloud quickly reached for Zack’s hand and offered his support, which Zack took by squeezing hard as he scrunched up his face in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Cloud lamented.

Zack’s face lit with a tired smile and his eyes turned glassy. He shook his head. No words came out of his gaping mouth.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Cloud patted Zack’s hand.

Nurses came into the room and attended to Zack. They asked him questions, checked his vitals and bandages. They readministered local pain relief and then wheeled him back to his room, where Zack’s parents, as well as Aerith, sat waiting with worry and relief when they saw him.

Cloud hung around, partly because Zack refused to let go of his hand, and also because the family insisted he stay, even when the doctors asked Cloud to leave. So Cloud was privy to all the talk about how the operation had gone: largely a success. They had to amputate more of the leg than they would have liked, unable to save the knee joint, but spoke positively about Zack’s prospects for recovery. 

They outlined the next steps: watch and see how the leg heals and schedule an operation in another 6 weeks to insert the transcutaneous dual-cone adapter, which would be the thing Zack’s prosthetic would attach to. They also discussed having checked out Zack’s right leg and given that the all-clear. Zack’s relief was palatable.

The doctors also said an OT would come visit in the morning, to plan out a full rehabilitation workout routine for Zack, because it was crucial he start moving after 48 hours to facilitate the healing process and hurry along his recovery for when the next operation would take place. 

It was close to 2 in the morning on Sunday by the time Zack’s parents and Aerith left, looking beyond weary. Cloud felt exhaustion clawing at him, and Zack looked no better for wear either.

“Please stay.”

Cloud did. Zack made room in his bed. They huddled together as best they could. Zack’s leg was piled on top of pillows to stay elevated, so he was stuck on his back. Cloud stayed on his side, pressed against the metal guardrail of the bed. But Zack pulled Cloud close, inviting him to use his shoulder as a pillow. 

Cloud did. He rested his hand on Zack’s chest and felt some of the scar tissue through the thin hospital gown Zack still wore.

Zack didn’t seem to mind. He nuzzled against the top of Cloud’s head.

They turned off the lights with the remote and nestled against each other. Despite everything Zack had been through—despite Cloud feeling like he should be the one to provide Zack with comfort, he received a lot of it himself. 

“Thank you for being here,” Zack murmured.

“It’s okay. Thank you for letting me stay.” The bed wasn’t that comfortable but Cloud could already feel fatigue setting into his bones and the back of his eyes. Zack’s arm around him was nice. Zack’s shoulder: comfortable.

Zack nuzzled Cloud. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Sure you could,” he muttered into Zack’s chest.

Zack’s voice slowed with the onset of weary sleep, as he said, “When do you have to go?”

Thinking felt difficult. He tried to remember what day it was. “Flight’s Monday. In the morning. Gotta pack this evening.” Cloud yawned. His head felt heavier by the second.

Zack hummed and ran his fingers lightly up and down Cloud’s spine. Cloud sank against Zack a little more, feeling utterly comforted and spent.

Their breaths evened out and slowed. Another low, rumbling and muttered, “Thanks for everything today, angel,” left Zack in a rapidly fading lilt.

Cloud hummed, pure exhaustion overcoming him and tugging him toward deep slumber. 

A whispered, _“Love ya,”_ passed through the quiet room as both men slipped into oblivion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter -  
> [Soldier by Goo Goo Dolls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tAouIVNc8U) \- this song is _the_ Zack song for this fic. Please give it a listen for extra feels.  
> [Come Home by OneRepublic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxW0cPo7F_o) for Clack feels.
> 
> Boy, oh boy, that was a lot, wasn’t it. Cloud being a sour-puss. Clack’s toing and froing with their make-up (though to be honest, it’s mostly just Cloud, lol). Sephiroth 😏. Amputation 😭 Oof. I understand if you all need a vacation. 
> 
> I’ve had a bunch of new ideas and concepts I want to incorporate and integrate without the constant pressure and threat of my posting schedule catching up with the chapters I still need to edit, which means I’ll post one more chapter next week and then I’m going into a posting hiatus to do a bunch of rewrites and edits for this fic. 
> 
> It _shouldn't_ take more than 2 weeks, I hope (or a month at worst).🤞🤞 Just wanted to give you all a heads up instead of cutting you off completely unprepared next week. But I think Ch 11 will be a really good spot to end the weekly posting and go for a mid-season break 😉
> 
> I’ve made announcements on my [Tumblr](https://goo.gl/pFnbwh) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/creampudding_), so some of you may already know about this hiatus. Do follow me there to be kept up to speed with the writing progress.
> 
> You can also subscribe to the story, or subscribe to me on my profile to receive chapter updates ✌️
> 
> Comments, thoughts, kudos always appreciated. You guys are collectively at fault for making me want to write more 😘
> 
> Also, someone commissioned some art from theskycriestoo which I believe was from this chapter. Thank you, anonymous lover of this story. It made my day when I saw this. 😭😭[The image linked on Twitter](https://twitter.com/theskycriestoo/status/1317551312914030596)


	11. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As uncomfortable as it is, Zack deals with his new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The title of this chapter was the _original_ title for this fic? I’m so happy that I got to reuse it in some way 💖
> 
> What awaits you in this chapter? ! **FUN SPOILERS WITHIN!**!  
> Chapter warnings - body dysphoria, dealing with limb-loss, PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of rapid weight loss, chronic illness.
> 
> This chapter went from barely 4k to 6k and now sits at over 12k. Thanks to Capt. BA for musing over extra angst thoughts with me, and thank you Prurient_curiosity for the beta assistance 💖
> 
> I sometimes feel like writing is a community effort 😂😘

Zack awoke slowly, wrapped in a foggy feeling. Grunting, he rolled over with some difficulty—he pulled back, his nose brushed against something fuzzy. He peeled his eyes open to see straw-yellow hair. Who had he slept with now? Last night was cocooned in fog. He’d probably been hitting the booze too hard. Why had that been again? Victory? Defeat? Whoever he was lying next too was still sound asleep. Zack nuzzled in close, enjoying the feel of—he pulled away again, running his hands under the thin blanket. Instead of bare skin he felt clothes. Zack grew aware of himself also… _dressed?_ He wore a gown. A draft blew around his back. A cold chill creeped into his awareness and he caught sight of the popcorn ceiling he detested. His heart sank. He went stiff— _Cloud!_ His… _leg!_ Zack dove down beneath the sheets with his hand feeling—he winced with pain. Last night _flooded_ him. Pain squeezed his insides. He curled in on himself as his hand made contact with—he recoiled; repulsed—shocked.

A disgusting weak tremble went through his remaining limbs. Zack clenched his fists, seeking strength, seeking to destroy the shake. He breathed out a hefty sigh and pushed his hand down again—less panicked, more methodical, feeling the cut-off remains of his leg—he choked on the sob that the welling grief squeezed out of his chest. With a renewed tremble, he tentatively touched the heavily bandaged _—_ he pressed his eyes shut against the pain… physical _and_ mental. His leg throbbed. It felt _weird—_ there, but not. Diminished _._ His very bones felt vandalized. He felt… _missing._

Why did it have to be _above_ the knee?

He'd been told the realities and possible outcomes. It shouldn't come as a surprise at all, but he'd still hoped and prayed—even though he didn't believe in things like that. Maybe he should have. Maybe if he'd worshipped a deity all his life none of this would have ever happened… or he'd have only lost his foot, or shin at worst.

He sucked in air past his teeth… he'd been told his options. He'd been pressed to cut the leg earlier—try and prevent the infection from getting worse, from taking more of his leg. He'd been in denial. He'd had too much self-belief in sheer strength of will killing the infection. Fuck, he'd been an idiot and now… now he was unnerved by how high up the cut was—how little of his leg remained—mid-thigh. _Fuck_. 

The dull ache where his knee should have been ignited into a flaring bolt of pain. He bent in half, tucked himself up, and pressed his forehead against Cloud's back as he grimaced through the searing agony. Overwhelming nausea threatened to cause him to hurl up the measly contents of his stomach—he hadn’t been able to enjoy a meal in weeks—hadn’t enjoyed much of anything really in the last few forevers.

He breathed through the pain. It was different but also the _same_ as back then— _ **BANG!**_ Zack's ears filled with shrieking static. Shots fired through the piercing ring. He felt the explosions in his body. Too close for comfort. Far away shouts. Yells. Screams. Pain. He flung his arms out, blindly grasping the warm body next to himself. “I’ll get you out, buddy. I’ll get us all out,” he grunted and tried to haul the lifeless body up—unable to get up himself. Something was wrong with his legs. “Fuck!” He slumped on top of his fallen comrade, trying to protect him from the hail of bullets sailing past overhead.

Something cut through the noise and the panic—a smell. It’s like the channel on a TV switched over. Everything turned deafeningly quiet. The halogen light overhead mixed with the onset of dawn peeking through the gap in the curtains. He was in the hospital. His full weight was on—“Cloud,” he yelled, his voice hoarse like he’d been stuck out in the desert for a month. He pushed off and sat up, looking at Cloud, who still slept on his side.

“Fuck.” Zack swept his hair out of his eyes. He grimaced at recognizing the tremble in his body, and the sweat prickling his skin. He _hated_ that he could recognize this now. He detested these uncontrollable bouts of fear and panic. His heart ached with the rapid beating. He took breaths, though he felt like he could get nothing into his lungs.

He was in the hospital. In hospital. He was here. Right now. Not out there in the field with everyone who died. He was… _safe_ , he thought with utter disgust. He was safe like the coward he was. He might have been able to save more of his team if he’d been quicker, stronger, or had thought things through—a better route navigating the rubble. He slapped his hand across his face, burying his god-awful tears in his palm.

Survivors guilt, he’d been told. He wished he wasn’t alive at all. Feeling useless was the worst. He sucked in a deep breath and willed the tears out of his existence. What was he supposed to do? His leg had been chopped off. He was… he was… he didn’t want to think about it.

He looked at Cloud, and the desire that erupted inside himself dragged him down like an anchor to the bottom of the sea. He hunkered down next to Cloud, curling up behind him. He slipped his arm around the man’s side and hugged him around the chest. Cloud’s even breath served as a deep comfort for Zack. This was real and this was the only thing that mattered.

He breathed in the deep, comforting scent and bathed in the body heat. It felt so good just knowing someone else was there. It felt good knowing it was Cloud—he was a true cloud of comfort. Zack couldn’t hold the chuckle at bay, nor the tears that squeezed out. Cloud would murder him if he ever voiced that thought. He nuzzled into the back of Cloud’s neck, the soft hairs tickled his lips and the warm musk soothed him further.

The flashback had drained him of his already-depleted energy. The pain in his thigh served as an unpleasant reminder. He gave in to the need for sleep. 

###### 

A knock roused him and Bernie’s familiar greeting sounded, “Rise and shine, Fair.”

“I always do.” He sat up stiffly, careful not to wake Cloud, who still seemed out cold at his side.

Bernie entered the room, faltered in her steps a fraction before returning her march over. “What have I told you about single bed occupancies?”

“The beds can't hold more than one person, yadda yadda. Look, I’m already sixty-six pounds lighter than when I first got here, and I found this crazy weight loss regime: lose forty pounds overnight, and whaddya know, it actually worked!” he proclaimed with a grin while a sharp, staggered pain twisted in his gut.

Bernie looked very unimpressed. She put the colorful kidney-bowl down on the tray table with a clatter.

Zack kept the flinch inside. A heated thought zipped through wondering if she ever did that on purpose just to catch him out. He said, “So, while I’m really happy that you care so much about the load-bearing capacity of the equipment, I’m also not worried. I’ve shared a bed with Cloud enough to know we're not going to break anything even before my super-secret weight loss regime kicked in.”

“Not the words I want to hear, Fair,” she admonished, and loudly declared, “Mr. Strife, wake up. I need you to leave.”

But Cloud didn’t stir. Zack looked down at him and then at the nurse with concern.

"Strife," Bernie said, a hard edge to her tone.

The man didn’t move a muscle. Zack shook his head. While he’d been snuggled against Cloud he hadn’t cared that the man hadn’t moved. Now, however, he began to worry.

“Is he alright?” Bernie asked, placing her charts on the tray table and went around to the other side of the bed to look at Cloud.

Zack shuffled over a little with a grunt. His abs felt like he’d done a hundred sit-ups for whatever reason. He butted up against the bed railing and gingerly rolled Cloud over so he was lying on his back. “Cloud,” he said softly, shaking him.

Bernie checked his vitals while Zack watched on with slight worry. It sort of washed away though as he took in Cloud’s beautiful complexion; the freckled cheeks, the bronzed bit of stubble growing along his jowls, those thick lashes. He longed to see breathtaking sky-blue eyes looking back at him. Maybe a little smile curling the corners of Cloud's lips.

“His vitals check out. He seems to be okay," she declared after checking his pulse against her watch, pulling Zack out of his reverie.

The two awake occupants of the room looked at each other.

“Oh!” Realization dawned on Zack. “He’s got adrenal fatigue. He gets really tired and can’t get up.” Zack leaned down with a wince. He quietly spoke against Cloud’s ear, “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Can you hear me? Are you awake?” He watched Cloud slumber on, his chest gently rising and falling. Zack felt at a loss over what to do, and a sting sat in his chest that maybe _he_ was at fault for Cloud’s crash.

"Adrenal fatigue… that's not a real thing." The nurse pursed her lips as if having tasted a lemon.

Zack barely contained the sneer of displeasure at her comment. “Sorry, Bernie. Whether it's real or not doesn't matter. Looks like he’s staying here until he wakes up.” He crossed his arms over his chest. While Bernie was intimidating in some ways, Zack was also ready to go toe to toe with her—at least with one foot, he thought a little glumly.

She huffed and went back around to Zack’s side of the bed, absently saying, “Maybe you can wake sleeping beauty with a kiss.”

“This isn’t a fairy tale,” Zack muttered, gazing down at Cloud’s serene sun-kissed skin and his chapped-but-plump bottom lip. Zack swallowed down the lump forming at the back of his throat and breathed out the flutters in his chest. He couldn't. He shouldn’t. He _wouldn’t._ This _wasn’t_ a fairy tale. If it were he wouldn’t be in this sort of a predicament. His body would have healed right, he’d never have had to have an operation. Tears rose and stung the back of his eyes. He steeled himself and returned his attention to Bernie, who checked all of Zack’s vitals, and especially his leg—or what was _left_ of it, came the bitter afterthought.

He could barely look as she examined him. The blanket pulled off, his leg _gone—_ taken from him—leaving behind a burning shame and feeling of abject helplessness. He felt sick; disbelieving. This _had_ to be a dream. How had his life come to _this?_ He wanted to wake up—wanted to still be at the base with _all_ his squad and platoon. He wanted to still be a Corporal and have earned his Sergeancy through hard work—he wanted his comrades around to have seen him at the pinning ceremony.

Everything inside him tightened. The tide of angry anguish rose—

“How is the pain?”

His leg felt tender and hot and itchy and sore…. A pulse kept shooting up into his thigh every couple of seconds. He couldn’t get over not feeling all _there._ “Bearable.” 

“I’ll give you an injection. Take these when you need,” she lifted a cup of pills and set them back down. “They’ll also be another dose of pain relief for you.”

“Thanks, Bernie.”

“You haven’t had it easy, but now you can really focus on getting better.” The faintest smile played on her lips. 

It warmed Zack immensely.

"When can I get up on my feet? _Foot."_ He frowned. "I wanna put my clothes on."

"You're not supposed to be up until tomorrow. Your leg needs to stay elevated. But I can get you a wheelchair for comfort breaks unless you'd like a catheter."

Zack shuddered. "A chair would be amazing."

She nodded. “You'll have a long list of visitors and consultations today and over the next few days.” Bernie checked a chart and read aloud for Zack, listing times and names and topics. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he half-listened. He was truly thankful for the company. It helped him stay centered and away from all the discomfort that he tried to hold at bay most days of the week.

“Try to get sleeping beauty out of here before Dr. Banes and Dr. Ferranti get in,” Bernice punctuated with a look at the still-sleeping man. “I’ll get the chair for you and Brad will be in to measure you for your crutches before lunchtime. But that doesn't mean you're supposed to use the ones he brings in. Remember, you’re on bed rest. And _tomorrow_ you can work on getting moving. You need to get your strength back and maximize your recovery. I want to see you out of here."

"Sick of my beautiful face already?" He batted his lashes at her but kept the left side of his face mostly tilted away.

"I am. That is why, if I catch you on the crutches, there'll be hell to pay. You haven't been mobile for a long time. Even your right leg will take time to adjust."

Zack hated Bernie's way with words, so matter of fact. Kinda reminded him of… "Then why get me crutches today if you think I'll use them before I'm supposed to? I mean, that’s just asking for trouble." He gave her a challenging grin.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Brad brings crutches with him to help measure patients for their new ones. He’ll also instruct you on their proper use. _That’s_ why. Mark my words, I'll be telling Brad not to leave you with crutches but I have no doubt in my mind that you'll _somehow_ talk yourself into getting what you want, so I'm telling you now to take it easy. Stick to the chair. For another twenty-four hours, Fair. Is that too much to ask?"

"Oh no. Not at all. I'll behave." He gave a solemn nod.

She looked skeptical, which made Zack grin. "Seriously, I'll try and behave," he tried to placate.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll get you that chair now. And remember, stay off the crutches and try and stay out of the chair as much as possible. Just for twenty-four hours. Behave."

“Will do.”

She sighed, picked up her things, and left.

Zack leaned back against the backrest and breathed out heavily. “She’s so crotchety.” He turned his attention onto Cloud, slumbering peacefully, which brought a smile to his face. Zack nestled down against the bedding and forgot all about the hospital, the people in it, the shape his body was in, and the throb in his leg as he gazed at Cloud’s profile. “You are really somethin’ to look at,” he breathed out and traced his finger gently down Cloud’s forehead, nose, and lightly brushed over his lips. He stopped at Cloud’s chin, feeling the scratchy hairs growing there.

He gently swept his fingers along Cloud’s jawline, up into his hair where he brushed aside the soft locks, tucking them behind Cloud’s ear to reveal what Zack had always known to be there, but had never had a chance to see up closer. He thumbed over the earring: an intricate and yet dainty wolf’s head.

He bit his lip and whispered, “God, you’re cute.” His smile faded and the warmth in his chest diminished the longer he watched Cloud sleep. “I hope you’re okay, buddy.”

A knock and the click of his door got Zack sitting up again. Bernie returned with the chair. She swung the tray table out of the way, lowered the bed railing with masterful ease, and locked the chair in place so she could help Zack into it.

This process was always so humiliating. Everything about his situation was humiliating. Zack darted nervous glances over at Cloud, praying the man didn't wake up right now as he had Bernie help get him into the chair. He had underwear on but he still didn’t want to give Cloud that view. Why were hospital gowns so _unflattering?_

He wasn’t left to focus on that thought. His muscles ached and burned. Muscles that he'd never even associated with being linked to his leg, but there he was with aching, stretching pains all up his back and side as he strained to move, with Bernie’s arms around him.

He found himself securely seated in the chair. He adjusted the thin hospital gown covering his leg so he wouldn't have to see it, but the way the fabric woefully hung down on the left side, where it should have still been sitting on top of his leg like on the right side, had him cringing inwardly.

"Remember to get back to bed ASAP. Elevate that leg of yours. I can get you more pillows if you need them. And use your remote to call for help, especially to get back into bed. You really underuse the call function."

"I know you and your staff have better things to do than to look after me. Plenty more people way sicker than I am."

She placed her hands on her hips and stared down at Zack for a moment before she shook her head and huffed with exasperation. "We are here to serve, just like you were before you came here. Let us do our job so you can go back to doing yours."

He gave her a small salute and with that she left again.

Zack made for the bathroom, not wanting to spend another moment dressed the way he was. He still struggled to maneuver the chair but figured he was getting better at it. It helped when he didn’t have stuff attached to himself.

In the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the large wash-basin mirror, much to his chagrin. He eyed his grizzly appearance: messy hair, scruffy beard, red eyes— _blagh_. He pulled his attention away and down to the stupid gown he wore, which he could hardly wait to exchange for proper clothes.

He stripped off, hating the confines of the chair—hating catching sight of his scarred torso and his scrawny arms and withered legs— _missing_ leg aside, he looked awful and felt it too.

As quick as he could, he wheeled himself to the suitcase on the floor. While he was used to living out of one—used to having minimal personal possessions and little to no privacy—there was something about the hospital setting that made this lifestyle really unappealing and depressing as shit. He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on it. WIth a strained grunt he leaned down and pulled out clothes after clothes, looking for his favorite red shirt. He felt so shit he figured having something on that he liked might help improve his mood. The longer he looked the more frustrated he got though. Maybe his mom had taken it to wash it? Though he hadn’t worn it in a really long time.

Zack sighed, exasperated, but figured it was probably better he didn’t find it. All his old clothes didn’t fit right anymore anyway. It would have probably depressed him further, so he settled for a gray tee and slacks. Aerith’s words drifted to him—’The color of your clothes will affect your mood.’ Well, he didn’t care right now. Maybe he wanted to feel how he felt.

The shirt was easy enough to pull on and in spite of the color made him feel comfortable as it hid his body which still itched horribly from time to time as things healed oh so slowly. His slacks were a whole other matter. He pulled them on over his leg and…. He breathed out the stomach-turning revolt and yanked his slacks over the… _thing._ He wheeled himself over in front of a handrail and pulled himself up onto his leg, rising with much grunting and strain. It felt good to stand. His breath shook with emotion. This was the first time he’d stood in… he didn’t even know how many months now. “Fucking hell.” He wiped his eyes; the happy and sad tears indistinguishable from one another. His arm shook as he held on and stood. He straightened. Standing on one leg… he could do it. He could. He had this. He let go of the railing—he gripped the railing tight with both hands as he wobbled. This felt weird. So incredibly weird. His foot felt… disused. Soft. Tingly. Heavy. His whole weight funneled to one point—sure, there was _less_ weight now but still…. He felt brittle. Like his bones would crumble to dust. 

Zack pulled his slacks up as quickly as he could with one hand running around the waistband. He swapped arms and pulled up the other side. At least he could dress himself. That brought him comfort.

He dropped back into the chair with a heavy breath. His body trembled all over from the exertion. How far had his fitness dropped? A toddler could probably beat him in a standing competition. He huffed with sick and distraught amusement. Zack looked himself over in his clothes. He adjusted the waistband and ignored how loose it was. Instead, he picked up the end of his slacks as it hung off his left side. He felt better for wearing clothes. It returned some of his dignity. He mused over the empty bit of fabric. What did it mean? Would he have to cut all his clothes now? No. That was stupid. He’d have a prosthetic leg soon enough. He looked forward to that, actually. His mom and the hospital staff had given him lots of reading materials. And while he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to look over any of it in any depth, he had browsed. He _had_ seen some pretty neat looking limbs. The idea of hiding what had befallen him seemed pretty good. But as of right now he didn’t have a leg to stuff into his empty slacks.

He contemplated tying up the pants leg into a knot but opted for rolling it up so his bandage could be redressed easier. He rolled and rolled and rolled until it touched his thigh. He pushed the disquieting thoughts out of his head and rolled himself back out of the bathroom.

The sight of Cloud in his bed eased and dislodged the sorrow sitting in Zack’s chest. He wheeled himself back to the bed. Not even considering pushing the call button to get someone to come in to help, Zack placed his hands on the bed, pushed off his right foot with a groan, and hoisted himself up. He breathed through the scream of his muscles: tendons and tissues pulled, his toes felt the strain, he went to put his left knee down—he swallowed down the cry and rolled over, his tumble blocked as he butted up against Cloud.

“Sorry, buddy,” Zack groaned and then hissed out a puff of air. He collected himself and shuffled onto his back. He fumbled with his hands, repositioning the pillows to elevate his…. He sighed.

This balance thing sure was tricky. Moving was harder than before. Even when both his legs had been on fire with pain, and then itchy, and then numb, shuffling had been easier than what it was now. The sting of tears gathered. He turned his head and looked at Cloud, who was on his back, head tilted toward Zack—still asleep. 

Worry grew in his head and chest. Had he been responsible for this? For Cloud being knocked out cold? He’d put the other man through so much strife and stress—he couldn’t help but chuckle at that… _strife_ … Cloud… he chased the silly thought away as he imagined all the annoyance and trouble Cloud probably had experienced because of his name, and not just because of who his parents were.

He reached out with his right arm, turning awkwardly—trying to keep his thigh on the pillow and his other leg’s weight off himself. He rested his hand on Cloud’s chest, which gently rose and fell. He remained there, feeling the placid thumping of the heart under his palm.

He couldn’t believe Cloud had come back to him. In the nick of time. He couldn’t fathom what it would have been like if he’d have to have experienced yesterday all by himself. Cloud was such a saint—an angel. Definitely an angel. He even looked like one.

Zack didn’t deserve Cloud in his life. Not after the crap he’d pulled a week ago. It pained him thinking back on it. He’d been so engrossed in his own suffering and had lost his filter. He’d been short with Cloud, and snappy, and completely unreasonable. He’d just been so fucking hurt over the news that he’d need an operation—an amputation. Needed it _soon_. The longer he waited, the worse it would be, they had said. The more they might need to cut—Zack squeezed against the pain of knowing that the cut he’d received had been because of his own idiocy—his own fears and worries—his wish to see Cloud again because he’d been too chicken shit to man up and face the music that his life was about to change. And that deferral, that waiting game… had probably cost him a couple of inches—if not the whole knee. 

“Fuck.” Swearing eased the pain he felt inside.

He kept doing stupid shit and paying the price for it. What more would he have to pay to regain his freedom? Freedom from the hospital, freedom from his… disability. His throat tightened around that word and the reality it brought with it. 

Zack let out a deep sigh, expelling the bad thoughts. For all his imagined realities there was also the truth—he was alive. He was okay. He could rebuild from this. All the haunting fears and ghosts that had been with him the last few weeks, piling up higher and higher, had finally toppled. He’d tried to hold the amputation at bay for as long as possible, but now that it was done… he could try and move on and get better from this. He knew that in his brain. A flurry of bitter pain, resentment, and sadness blew around his heart. He really shouldn’t have let it out on Cloud. He hadn’t deserved any of it. Zack felt incredibly lucky that Cloud had such a generous and kind soul to come back and forgive him for all the things he’d said… for all the things he’d tried to push—pushed to hear how Cloud felt about him—wanted to hear that Cloud came to visit because he felt something stronger than a sense of duty to look after and be there for a friend. A friend… Zack really asked for too much at times. He always wanted more, hungered to be better, stronger, achieve his dreams and goals, and have the people he loved close and safe to himself. How could he do any of that now that he wasn’t whole anymore? 

How could he fix the hurt he had caused Cloud? He kept driving a wedge between them. Making the other man uncomfortable because of how he pushed to have more. He saw it in the blank stares and embarrassed avoiding-eye-contact glances he got from Cloud whenever he said or did the wrong thing. Whenever he _pushed_ a little bit too much. He should really get the hint by now that Cloud wasn't into him.

But then what was with Cloud always being here, holding his hand, giving the best hugs? Zack caught the shy looks and smiles. They stoked the fire in his belly, they made him keep trying, because at best Cloud was just extremely shy and at worst…. He winced and took his hand off Cloud’s chest. He made Cloud uncomfortable, whether his work, his body, or the locale… they all added to Cloud’s discomfort. And for whatever reason, that rejection hurt. Zack hated that he couldn’t do anything about _any_ of these circumstances or situations.

He got it…. Being stuck in hospital was a far throw from the privacy of a secluded nook in a nice restaurant somewhere, or the darkness of a theatre, or the comfort of a bed in one's own home…. Heck, even a hotel bed would be better than a hospital bed! Zack would love nothing better than to wine and dine Cloud, take him out for a nice time and then hold his hand, gaze into piercing blue eyes as he'd run his hand through blond hair and down the man's cheek, tilting his face up ever so slightly and say, “Cloud Strife, you mean the world to me. Can I kiss you?” he whispered, a _little_ terrified that Cloud might be awake and that it might be too forward.

He waited for an answer from the sleeping man lying at his side, to no avail. “Would it freak you out if I ever said that to you and actually meant it?” he added as an aside, _in case_ Cloud _was_ awake and freaking out. It still netted him no response, and so he breathed easy.

He shifted back from Cloud, watching him some more. Maybe if he'd said he wanted to kiss Cloud when they'd made that bet he wouldn't have had to back-peddle and use chocolates as an excuse. The memory of it made him groan and rub at his face. Why hadn't he been upfront? Why had it always been such a struggle? Why did it feel even worse now? 

He kept staring at Cloud. Indulging in what he never dared to do much of in fear of driving Cloud away if he looked too long, came off as too intense, as wanting something. Warmth radiated off Cloud. Zack shuffled a fraction closer. Cloud's very presence grew a desire in Zack which he barely ever felt anymore—not since ending up in here. He hardly felt a stirring inside. Cloud got him close to it. Cloud was special and important to him. 

Zack huffed at that, baffled how it had even happened. All his life he’d been no stranger to casually dating. To friends with benefits. He never wanted anything more. He never connected with people on deeper levels—it had cost him a few possible relationships in the past. And he _still_ didn't really mourn those either. Even now. But when he looked at Cloud and thought of not seeing him again an ache like no other bloomed in his chest. He didn’t understand it. He still thought it might just be something about the _trauma_ he’d gone through. Maybe it was the hospital setting, needing a distraction, investing all his feelings into this one man who was always around, making him laugh and keeping him excellent company.

Would he care about Cloud as intensely as he did right now once he was back in whatever shape his life would take place? Maybe this is what everyone went through when they faced a tragedy like he’d faced: cling onto whoever was closest. He’d never felt this way before, so maybe that was the reason? He simply didn’t know. But he knew that for now, being around Cloud caused a stirring in his chest. It let his smile come with ease, and it grew a heaviness that lingered and grew more pained every time Cloud left his side.

He liked Cloud. _Loved?_ Maybe even loved him. Zack loved a lot of people though. Kunsel. Aerith. They came easiest to his mind. Cloud came even easier. He smiled. He frowned. He'd blown his chance. Must have at least half a dozen times by now. Why had he shown Cloud his body? He wished he could go back in time and smack the stupid out of his head. Wished he could go back in time and change many things really. But as for his body… as for Cloud… he really should have left it at the fucking scar on his face, instead of showing him what a mess he really was underneath. He looked like one of those splatter paintings, but less colorful. He looked like a dog had thrown up all over his body. 

And now it was worse. His leg! He wasn't whole anymore. He was half…. Less than half. Everything he dreamed about or hoped for in life had been taken away. Cut off. Thrown away. Where was his leg now? What had they done with it? Would it be sent to a lab for science? He _had_ signed a waiver form for his leg to be used if it was deemed useful. He scoffed at that thought. His leg has been useful to him before… He clicked his tongue and blinked away the painful feeling building up.

Would they incinerate his leg? A part of his body that had been… well, badly damaged, but still been a part of him… he’d grown that limb. Had it since before he was born. And now… now it was gone…. An indescribable feeling went through him. His limbs—what was left of them—trembled.

His mother’s voice drifted to his ears, ‘You should take better care of your things.’ She’d always said that to him as he’d carelessly traipsed around, breaking things in an attempt to fix, rescue, explore. He never thought that this would apply to his own body. He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead and grimaced through the pain of another bout of welling tears blurring his vision. He was so tired of these feelings. So tired of being broken. 

He rolled over, twisting at his waist and buried his face in the crook of Cloud’s neck and wrapped his arm around the sleeping man.

###### 

Time passed. Zack didn’t feel like watching TV, preferring to doze. He even flicked through some of the reading materials he’s accumulated. As much as he didn’t like what happened to him, now that it _had_ happened a weight was off his chest. He berated himself for how scared he’d been. Couldn’t believe it, really. Felt annoyed that Cloud had been witness to it all.

He kept casting glances at his bed-sharer, wondering what Cloud thought of him. Thank goodness Francis arrived bringing him breakfast and giving Zack a way out of negative thoughts for a while as they talked. Francis left again, but not without leaving an extra fruit salad in case Cloud woke up before lunch. 

It wasn’t too long after that until Brad the OT arrived with some wooden crutches which he sized up so Zack could stand and get measured for his light-weight alloy mobility aids which he’d get after another week or so. 

Even with the wooden framed digging in, and his wrists straining from the odd positioning of the crutches as he stood, minutely shifting his weight on his wobbly-feeling leg, Zack felt incredible simply _standing_ there. He didn’t even care that his leg did give out for a moment, making him stumble. The crutches and his reflexes saved him from falling flat on his face. 

“Sorry, Zack. I won’t keep you up for much longer,” Brad said.

“Nah, man. No worries at all. Just goes to show I could stand to stand more.” Zack chuckled, infinitely relieved over being up.

Brad showed Zack a better way of managing the crutches and then Zack sweet-talked his way into keeping them in the room. Brad emphasized a 5-minute time limit and reminded Zack to elevate his leg.

Zack promised he’d keep it all in mind. He even went back to bed, lying down next to Cloud who had rolled over to the left side of the bed. Zack stayed there for a solid five minutes after Brad had gone, eyeing the crutches. 

“I really should rest up, shouldn't I, Cloud. Like… if Bernie sees me she’ll murder me. Not that that would be so bad,” he chuckled wryly, “but I also wouldn’t want to get her into trouble. You’d tell me to stay in bed and rest.” He looked down at Cloud. “I’d listen to you, too. Too bad you’re asleep.” He grinned and hoisted himself up, fetched the items that had been burning into his retinas and proceeded to use them.

As much as he hated that his life had now become _this_ , he also _really_ enjoyed being up and about, moving of his own volition, with his own strength, on his own legs… leg… foot. He looked down at himself stretching out his… he had no word for it. Leg? His leg was gone. Stump? He felt too much like a tree using that term. He thought about Barret… his former squad member still called his arm and arm. He was always very pragmatic—though also zealously passionate at times. Zack chuckled thinking about how emphatically Barret would yell at him that his leg was still his leg, no matter what. He looked down at his thigh again—what was left of it. He swung it around a bit, marveling at the lightness. It was like getting a haircut after a long time of growth and feeling weirdly weightless. Speaking of… he leaned heavily on one of his crutches and ran his hand through his hair. He really needed a cut… and a wash. He’d been moping for the last two weeks and it was showing. How would Cloud ever find him attractive if he didn’t take care of himself?

He threw a glance back over to the bed and at Cloud, peacefully sleeping. He kept throwing glances at Cloud as he practiced moving about his room. He muttered curses under his breath as he got used to the unwieldy objects and how his balance was immensely impacted by his missing leg. He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t fathom that this was his reality. He hated his situation. Hated himself. Felt _ashamed_. _Embarrassed._ Disgusted. _Disfigured._ But also alive. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He wondered what Cloud would think of him now. What his friends would think and say. His _colleagues._ He was _ruined_. All his hopes, his dreams shattered, broken— _gone._ But again… he was alive… when so many people he had cared for weren’t.

The terrible thoughts stopped him in his tracks a multitude of times. He see-sawed through feeling positive and optimistic, only to be crushed by an anvil of sorrow. He had to muster all his strength to keep the pathetic tears inside. 

He wished Cloud would wake up so he could talk to him about the inside stuff, and also other things. He longed for the man’s quiet and calming presence. But Cloud kept sleeping.

He did try and take it somewhat easy. He took breaks, sitting at the edge of the bed or sank into the chair that Cloud always occupied. He rested and elevated his leg but… he’d been stuck in bed for 6 months so keeping off his feet—foot, now that he could finally walk again… sort of… seemed criminal torture.

He turned to Cloud as he sat in the chair, looking for a distraction—his heart twinged at that thought and memory over his ill-fated words.

“You aren’t a distraction. Well… you _are,_ but you also aren’t. Like, you’re the best thing happening in my life right now.” Zack grunted as he shuffled in the chair to get closer to Cloud. He leaned forward, brushing at Cloud’s hair. “Beautiful, kind, _and_ you also have incredibly soft hair.” He sighed and his gaze lingered on dark lashes, slightly-freckled cheeks, perfect cupid’s bow, and that plump bottom lip which _begged_ to be sucked on. Zack sucked on his own lip for a moment before pulling himself out of his hyper-transfixed stare. “How’m I gonna wake you up?”

Zack stopped teasing the locks of hair and cupped Cloud’s cheek, marveling at the softness despite the growing stubble. Zack subconsciously rubbed at his own chin, once again reminded how much he'd let himself go. He needed to shave. He rubbed his hand against his left side where he felt the scar. No hair grew there, forming a gully of scabbed-over skin. It felt like it pronounced his defect even further instead of hiding it like he’d hoped for. Disappointment seeped out of his chest. 

He refocused on Cloud and stroked his cheek. “I can’t believe you’re really out cold. Am I stressing you out too much?” He paused even though no response would be forthcoming. “I’m sorry.” He withdrew his hand and leaned against the bed’s metal side rail, looking down. He caught sight of where his left knee should be and grimaced at the void. 

He sank into his miserable feelings, resting his head against the railing and squeezing his eyes shut. This was worse than seeing his body wasted away and hollow. His muscles he could get back, but his leg…. He felt so sorry for himself. He couldn't stop feeling sorry for himself. It disgusted him—people were _dead_ and he felt sorry for himself. He gritted his teeth against the abhorrent self-pity burning inside. 

“Oh, I know! _Coffee!”_

He got up. He fell, landing awkwardly on his left side. “Fuck!” he screamed despite himself and remained sprawled on the carpeted floor, rolling over to look up at the ceiling. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to keep the tears inside but it didn’t work. He cried, he sobbed, he wept ugly sopping tears and woefully pathetic wailing sounds left his chest. 

His sobs wracked him—they morphed. He laughed—sharp, hysterical. He was so pathetic. He couldn’t even get out of a fucking chair. Just great. If his squad could see him now they’d tut at him, call him a baby, reach out to him and help get him back up. They’d laugh about it together. Zack would get his strength back and brush it off. But reality was that he was all alone in his misery. Though he had Cloud—but Cloud was currently passed out on his bed. 

This felt like the ultimate punishment and yet, it also served as a relief because he couldn’t bear the idea of Cloud witnessing _this._

He pinched the bridge of his nose as new tears sprung up and squeezed out. He cried harder knowing Cloud was just _there_ but unable to comfort him. His body shook with his outpouring of grief. Zack felt so alone and completely abandoned—detestable—monstrous—horrific—lame… pathetic… hopeless—helpless. No. That last feeling sparked anger inside himself. It roused him to a sitting position. He reached for the bedside railing, got his knee under himself and got up. 

He stood, wobbly and unbalanced, but still standing and triumphant. He wiped the tears away, hating how they leaked into his scratchy beard. He’d need to do something about that. Do something about a lot of things really. Right now, though, he wanted to be of use to Cloud. He wanted to begin repaying all the kindness, support, and good-will he’d been granted. 

Zack looked down at the sleeping angel, feeling oh-so thankful that he’d missed his complete meltdown. With a groan and strain, he reached for his crutches and hobbled over to the kitchen counter. 

The short distance took too long to traverse, but by the time he got to his destination he felt better; his sobs were all dried up and no longer sat in his chest. 

He couldn’t let a thing like a missing leg destroy him. He needed to be better now. After all… if he let something like _this_ destroy him then who even had he been in the first place? Cloud’s words echoed in the back of his head about being strong and better and only getting out what he’d put in. Zack knew all these things. When he had been his _better_ self he’d lived his life in accordance with that self-belief. He’d lost himself though. Somewhere in the halls of the labyrinthian hospital corridors and the events of the last 7 months. 

He took a rasping breath. He’d lost himself. Zack squeezed his eyes shut against the sting that grew there. Thank God for Cloud. Thank all the good things in life for Cloud Strife who kept him tethered to sanity and shone a light toward a way out of the quagmire of his pity-party. Zack looked over his shoulder at the bed and its sleeping occupant. Surely he was over the worst of it now. Recovery would be brutal but at least he wasn’t in limbo anymore. He could get out of this if he kept focusing on what was important. 

He may have lost himself, but he knew who he had been. He knew who he wanted to be again, and that road to recovery started here. Today. Right now. Would he ever get back to who he was? Probably not, but he had to try or he might as well be as good as dead.

With his self-directed pep-talk over, he felt stronger. “I do like being able to stand again,” he said to himself and got busy pushing the plants aside that covered the kitchen counter in all their varying potted forms. Cloud hadn’t seemed to mind, so he assumed everyone who’d sent him a thoughtful flower arrangement had heeded his wish for low-allergy kinds. Making Cloud comfortable was paramount to him; if he himself couldn’t be, at least _someone_ should be, Zack figured. 

He got around to his mission: make Cloud a coffee. He found himself commenting on all the little things he had always taken for granted, like having things in easy reach, the view, freedom. But his balance was completely off. He had to hop on one leg, use his hands to shift about, and he couldn’t carry things as he needed his hands to move.

“Tsk.” He wiped at his eyes and took the brewed coffee to the bed, but spilt it all. “Fuck,” he barked and got to cleaning up the spill with a towel he found in one of the drawers; an effort all of its own as he leaned on his left crutch and tried to use his foot to push the towel around to soak up the coffee. He didn’t think he’d be able to get up if he went down especially as the strain of being up for too long made his body tremble.

Yet he was determined to get that coffee made for Cloud. It felt good to have a purpose and mission again. So he went about making a second cup while throwing glances at Cloud and praying he wouldn't wake up, absolutely mortified over having a witness to his uselessness. Between looks over his shoulder, he got the sugar and milk out again, adding them to the black, pungent-smelling brew. A slightly-heaped spoon of sugar. A dash of milk. Not too much, not too little. Just the way Cloud liked it. 

Zack paid attention when Cloud made himself coffees. He liked the methodical way the man went about his business, making it look like an art form of precision and concentration as Cloud would stir the ingredients together one, two, three, four, five times, tap the glass with his spoon, which Zack did, and then stir for another two times. Zack didn’t think this would effect the quality or taste of the coffee, but he did it anyway, because he wanted it to be perfect, and kind of still hoped that getting it right would somehow make Cloud wake up.

Zack treated the second cup of coffee with greater care, not having over-filled it, and moved very slowly on one crutch, balancing the cup with his free hand. He made it to the side of the bed with the tray table attached and felt utterly pathetic, but also victorious for having managed it. He hobbled back to the kitchen counter with great strain; clinging onto his crutch like it was a liferaft, retrieved his other crutch, and then went back to the chair where he sank down with a deeply relieved sigh. He elevated his leg as much as possible and reclined.

“Boy, these things sure are a workout and a half. If I keep this up I’ll get fit in no time,” he laughed a little because the alternative would be to cry again and he was sick and tired of crying all the time. Especially in front of Cloud. “Bet Sephiroth never cried in his life,” he muttered resentfully. There had been something there. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the way Cloud had presented and talked to someone that even Zack felt intimidated by had been… something to behold. For all the disdain Cloud said he held for the military there had been familiarity there. And yes, Cloud had told him he knew the General because of family ties but still… something _niggled_ at him and he didn’t think he liked it.

He let that tiring thought slip away and looked around his room, enjoying the different view it brought with it. He lingered on the forest of flowers his recent bout of unwellness had stirred but, and he smiled at the ferns Aerith had sent his way. It certainly made his stay in this place feel homier than it could have otherwise been. He really appreciated Aerith’s thoughtfulness and then his gaze fell onto Cloud. His heart stirred. He didn’t know how he could ever thank her for bringing this man into his life. He was truly the best thing about this entire, terrifying and life-shattering experience.

“Cloud,” he spoke softly, leaning in and down. Cloud breathed a little deeper, his eyes moved under their lids. Zack smiled. “I hope you’re having nice dreams.” 

He couldn’t fathom the deep well of affection every time Cloud graced him with his presence. He’d never felt something like this before. He loved people. He loved his parents. He loved his friends. He’d even loved the few people he’d semi-seriously dated. All of that paled in comparison to what he felt when he looked at Cloud—when he got to talk to him—got to _bask_ in his presence.

Like a moth to a flame, Zack drew down toward the bed. All discomfort and strain in his body was forgotten about. His smile bloomed and spread deep into his core. “You _are_ a sleeping beauty. Bernie is right about that.” He placed a soft kiss to the corner of Cloud’s eye.

A sigh escaped Cloud. Zack leaned back sharply, surprised, and smiled with more strength as Cloud’s eyes slowly opened like heavy curtains being lifted.

Cloud’s eyes widened with a start. “Zack,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

Bewildered, yet relieved, Zack husked, “Hey, buddy.”

“What’re you… where am I?” Cloud made to sit bolt-upright, but slumped back against the bed, holding his head and groaned.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, okay?” Zack reached for Cloud, holding his shoulder gently. “How are you feeling? Are you okay, bud?”

“Yeah,” Cloud rasped. “Where am I?”

“In hospital, in my bed. Thank you for staying with me.”

“Oh.” Cloud blinked rapidly and his cheeks flushed a little, a sight Zack absolutely delighted in every time it happened. Cloud slowly raised his hand to rub at his face, looking as if the gesture took a lot of effort.

"How're you feeling?" Zack prompted again.

"Like shit. Something smells good.”

Zack chuckled, eternally grateful for Cloud’s conscious presence right now. “I made you a brew. You’ve been sleeping like the dead. Is this… adrenal fatigue?”

Cloud groaned. “Shit… I think…” With a strained grunt he rolled onto his side, facing Zack. “Yeah, I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Cloud sighed, his hand fell away from his face, revealing eyes that struggled to stay open.

“You need me to do anything? Any way I can help?”

“No. Just… let me sleep.”

“Oh. Okay. Do you still want your coffee? I made it how you like it. Black, with one sugar and a splash of milk. It might be cold by now though.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

"Do you want me to warm it up for you?"

Cloud shook his head. "A cold coffee actually sounds nice." He smirked weakly.

Zack picked up his crutches and—

“Oh shit, Zack. No. Don’t. Your leg.” Cloud strained and groaned as he tried to sit up again. _“Fuck._ No, don’t—move.”

Zack chuckled. “Look, I think I’m in better shape than you right now. Just relax. I’ve got this.” He finally got up, making sure to not mess up and fall over. He had an image to uphold, especially now that Cloud was awake— _yay!_ He hobbled over to the other side of the bed, aware of Cloud’s eyes on him. He stayed focused on the task instead of how self-conscious he felt.

“I’m sorry for making you do this. I should be the one—”

Zack tutted to stop Cloud from apologizing. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m supposed to start moving now.” He omitted the 24 hour part. There was no need to cause stress.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay in bed until tomorrow?”

 _Ah fuck._ Zack laughed. “It’s really okay. They wouldn’t have given me crutches if I was supposed to stay in bed.” He gave his best grin.

Cloud’s shoulders slumped and he relaxed against the pillow. “It’s good to see you up.”

Zack's innards filled with warm affection. Relief stirred over having avoided Cloud's beratements and having placated him sufficiently. “It’s good to be up.” He heavily sat down on the bed and put aside the crutches. Picking up the cup of coffee, he held it out to Cloud, who strained greatly to sit up. Zack quickly set the cup back down and reached for Cloud around the middle, helping him up into a sitting position.

“Thanks,” Cloud wheezed and shuffled back to lean against the backrest of the bed. 

He looked so drained. So tired. Zack’s heart went out to him. Seeing Cloud at his own low point was… grounding. A deep sense of kinship roused inside of Zack. He hadn’t felt that since he’d been out in the field with his squad. “Here.” He handed Cloud the cup and watched the man take it up with a faint tremble to his hands.

Cloud gave Zack a frail smile and sipped the drink. 

Zack watched on with an anxious jitter running through him—his leg throbbed over the unpleasant anticipation. “Is it good?” he asked. If Cloud didn’t like the coffee it would somehow hurt more than getting peppered with bullets and shrapnel.

“Mm. Yeah. Still a little warm too. Thanks, Zack.”

A shiver ran up Zack’s spine. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that good. “You’re welcome.” He paid attention as Cloud kept drinking. Watched the small gulps. The way Cloud licked his lips. The way blue eyes locked on to him—Zack looked away, conscious of how he stared. “So, uh…” he chuckled and rubbed his hand through his greasy hair—he grimaced, reminded of what an abysmal sight he must be for Cloud right now. He needed to distract himself—and Cloud—from that reality. “How the tables have turned, huh? Me walking around, and you stuck in bed.” Zack forced the laugh. 

Cloud smiled around his cup. "It's pretty ironic."

Zack nodded in agreement. He wasn’t completely sure if it was ironic, but it certainly was _something_. If Cloud said it though, it must be right.

“I’m sorry for putting you through—”

Zack waved his hand about. “No, no, no. It’s okay. Looking after you makes for such a nice change. I’m really happy—I mean, not that you’re sick,” he corrected in a mild panic. What was he even _saying?_ “I’m just happy to return the favor, yanno?”

Cloud smiled. Oh _god_ , how much Cloud’s smiles felt like liquid sunshine to Zack. 

He fussed over Cloud for a while after that, making sure he ate the fruit salad that had been left for him and insisted that Cloud go to the bathroom to wash up. And while Cloud was busy in there, Brad came back to do a quick assessment around Zack’s mobility.

Cloud came out once the OT left.

“I hope you didn’t stay in there for so long because of Brad,” Zack said as he sat on the edge of his bed, preparing to recline and elevate what was left of his leg again.

“Oh no,” Cloud said, looking refreshed though still drowsy, and smelling like soap. He went and sat down in the chair.

Zack didn’t believe him. “You still look like you’re about to fall over. Lie back down and get more sleep.” He flung the blanket aside and watched Cloud gratefully climb in and pull the blanket up and close to his chin. Zack found him abysmally adorable.

“What did Brad say?” Cloud muttered, his eyes drooping.

“He walked me through exercises I need to start doing three times a day and just had to take a few more measurements for my new mobility aids.” He yawned, exhaustion rolling over him. Being on his feet had taken its toll on him.

“Come lie down,” Cloud murmured.

Zack didn’t need to be invited twice. He set aside the crutches he’d still loosely held on to and made to crawl over—he winced as he put weight on his missing leg but swallowed down the hiss of pain. 

“Hmm?” Cloud checked in.

“I’m okay.” Zack moved more carefully and settled into bed. 

Cloud strained trying to help Zack with the pillows for his leg. 

“It’s ok, Cloud.” He waved Cloud off and fixed the pillows up himself. He didn’t like having anyone, especially Cloud, anywhere near the abomination that was his ruined physique.

Cloud rested back, pulling the blanket over the both of them and they snuggled together, much like last night with Cloud getting comfortable on Zack’s shoulder and their arms around each other.

Zack sighed from sheer bliss. 

“How’re you doing?” Cloud murmured.

Zack hummed, trying to figure that question out. “Okay. Much better than the last few weeks, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The unknowable is much worse than the reality. Mind you, reality still _sucks_ —” Zack heard Cloud huff with amusement and it made Zack smile too, “—but it is what it is and there’s no use fighting it. This is my life now. I’ll make do. I really like being up and able to move. I’ve… got hope again—” tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away. “I haven’t had that in a long time. Things are finally looking up.”

Cloud squeezed Zack’s side. “That’s so good to hear.”

Zack smiled into the top of Cloud’s tickling and soft hair. “This is the best.” He wanted to say more—‘you in my arms is the best,’ but he didn’t want to push things between them. He didn’t even know what this was. Letting it be seemed the best option. He laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“Hmm?”

‘Lying down for once _actually_ feels good.” He laughed some more and boy, did that in itself also feel great! “It’s really hard work moving around.”

“It’ll get easier with practice.”

“Yeah, I assume so. Brad said the same thing. It sounds better coming from you though." Zack nuzzled Cloud’s damp hair with affection. This was heaven. 

Cloud huffed out in amusement. “You’re doing a good job. I’m proud of you,” he said, his voice laden with fatigue.

“Thank you, Cloud. That means a lot to me.” It really did. He could practically feel himself inflate over Cloud having a positive opinion of him.

Cloud hummed and his breath deepened moments later, heralding sleep. Zack smiled to himself feeling glad that Cloud had woken up and had spent some time talking to him. His burden didn’t feel so heavy. His shame not quite so hot and bright. Exhaustion, however, bulldozed him. He drifted off again, cocooned in soft affection, afloat a cloud of comfort.

###### 

The day dragged between sleep and wakeful periods. Zack had a handful of other visitors, his doctors, and parents amongst them. He was especially relieved that Cloud slept through his parents visiting him. Zack could easily imagine the other man's mortification when questions started flying around in regards to them dating. Zack felt embarrassed enough for the both of them. He downplayed what was happening—"He's got adrenal fatigue and just needs to rest."

When Zack was left alone again he resumed his position next to Cloud and ran his fingers through soft tufts of hair. He thought long and hard about his parents' words. Would Cloud ever want to date him? The man detested the military and those involved with it… though… with a wince, Zack wondered if he was still _part_ of the military. There was no way he’d ever be allowed on active duty again, not with his leg being what it was, and if he couldn’t serve… 

He cringed and felt an ache in his non-existent limb. At best he’d become a glorified show-pony for the military. Something Cloud had said a long time ago… something about being ‘used and discarded like rubbish,’ clung to Zack’s mind. If that was the best option for him, it was also the worst. He felt like garbage.

The military—his _family_ —seeing him as useless… that thought felt like a mortal wound in his chest and he curled tighter around Cloud and grit his teeth. He couldn’t afford to think too far into the future. All he could do was think about today, and _maybe_ tomorrow. Cloud would be gone tomorrow… Zack breathed down that thought like shards of glass entering him. Once Cloud was gone he’d be alone again. Truly alone to face up to the reality of what his life had become. 

Yes, sure, he’d have other visitors, he’d be kept busy with his schedule; groups, physio, hydro, therapy… but the quiet times, the evenings… those were always the hardest. Those were the moments when his time with Cloud mattered the most. He didn’t have to pretend with Cloud. Of course, he still did a lot of the time, but he felt relieved thinking about the fact that he didn’t _have_ to pretend if he so chose. He didn’t have to wear the mask; the bright smile which crumpled and crushed his heart. He could be real with Cloud. He didn’t have to be optimistic and upbeat to keep the worried expression off Cloud’s face. Though… he didn’t enjoy seeing the other man worry about him. But when Cloud looked at him with deep sympathy and care… Zack didn’t feel incapable, weak, or pathetic. He felt… seen and understood, unlike with others. Unlike with people from work. 

He knew all the terrible negative things he’d been feeling would only get worse now that his leg was gone. The mental health stuff he could have tried to hide. The leg… he couldn’t hide that. He was physically branded. He felt abysmal. The guilt over still being alive washed over him yet again. He was so ungrateful. He felt the throng of ghosts of his lost squadmates all around. Felt their presence in the unopened letters under his bed, from the family members. He was such a stinking coward.

“Cloud,” he tested the waters and received no response. “I don’t want to be here. This is too hard… I feel so… weak. I’m… such an idiot.” He felt better for saying it aloud to someone, even if that someone couldn’t hear it. He smiled into the back of Cloud’s head, remembering the times he had been a colossal idiot and pretended to be asleep whilst he'd listened to Cloud's comforting mutterings. If Cloud overheard him now it would be poetic justice. “I really like you being in my life, you know that? I could see something really special between us, which… I guess that’s something to fight for. I can get better from this if I have something to fight for.”

He stopped talking and listened for a response. He listened so long that he fell asleep.

###### 

Zack woke again in the afternoon to a late lunch, which he shared with Cloud when the other man awoke as well, looking more alert. They watched some TV, talked a little and then Cloud dozed off again. Zack ordered coffee to be delivered from Cloud’s favorite café, thinking it might be a nice surprise. He loved seeing the smile on Cloud’s face and the way it scrunched up his eyes.

He spent his time working on using his crutches until a knock at the door heralded Private First Class Jensen entering, carrying the coffee cup.

“You ordered something, sir?”

“Ah yes.” Zack straightened and strained, walking with feigned confidence toward the soldier. His wish to please Cloud far outweighed his need to hide his shame. Though he kind of regretted it right now as he felt absolute judgment from his subordinate. He took the cardboard cup tray and followed the other man’s gaze right to… Cloud sleeping in his bed. Something uncomfortable grew in that stare.

“You can leave now,” Zack pressed.

The Private First Class looked between Cloud and Zack, nodded, and took his leave.

Zack took the cup over to his bed, worried that maybe he’d done something wrong, but far more worried about spilling the contents of the cup. At least there was a lid.

Zack sat next to Cloud on the bed, elevating his leg, absently watching the turned-down TV. He ran head-miles around his possible reactions and feelings in regards to the people in his life seeing him like he was. He knew those closest to him would see beyond this… hoped they could. Hoped they wouldn’t treat him differently. His mother always worried too much, especially now. Zack hated subjecting her to seeing him in this situation. He hated seeing her worry, had always tried to keep her from worrying. Half the time he worried about his mom being so affectionate toward him now. His whole hospital situation had flipped a switch or something—not that he complained about it. It was nice to hear caring words from her. But he saw the _worry_ and _fear_ all too clear in her glassy eyes and that killed him.

As for his old man… it ate at Zack how much of a burden he was on his parents right now. Ate at him that his dad saw him with struggles he couldn’t hide. Zack felt the burning shame of no longer being ‘perfect’. No longer being able to uphold the image he’d carefully curated for his parents… and everyone else really. _Platitudes._ The word sat heavy on his tongue and even heavier in his chest as he darted a glance over at Cloud. He’d gotten them from a lot of people. Unintentional and intentionally. He hated hearing all the well-wishes, all the sage advice, all the _know-it-alls_ coming at him. He wanted nothing to be different. But everything had changed. Was he naïve to hope for things to go back how they had been? Wishful? Childish? Tears pricked his eyes. He swallowed them down.

What did this mean for his job? He knew he couldn’t serve. Not like before. What would he do now? Paperwork. He grimaced. He _sucked_ at paperwork. Would anyone listen to him? Would anyone take him seriously? Or simply hear anything he said through the lens of someone with a… with a…. Would they simply hear anything he said as cries and complaints? Would they take it easy on him and baby him? Give him undeserved praise? Attach all his possible future achievements to his missing leg instead of his own hard work? He cringed over the concept of _special treatment._

He detested having his shortcoming so on display. A disgusted scowl twisted his face. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole somewhere and vanish from existence. He really wished his final operation would hurry up and get here. He craved to have a prosthetic attached. To wear pants that covered him. Hide him. Make him like everyone else.

Cloud roused, to Zack’s utter relief. He handed the man the coffee and indulged in Cloud’s surprised and warm smile. It melted Zack’s worries and gave him something else to focus on.

###### 

As evening descended, Cloud became more alert and stayed awake for longer spells. 

Zack caught Cloud looking at the clock in the center of the kitchenette area and with a heaviness growing in his heart, asked, “Do you have to go? Are you okay to go? Should I call you a cab? Are you okay to drive?”

A weak smile graced Cloud’s lips. “I think I should be okay to get home. I feel really rested.”

“Oh good! But you sound surprised.”

Cloud hummed and rubbed at his eyes. “I crashed pretty hard. It usually takes me a couple of days to get over something like this. It feels a bit weird feeling okay,” he laughed nervously.

Zack’s ego inflated a fair bit and he smirked. “Maybe it was all of my wonderful TLC and pumping you full of coffee that did the trick.”

Cloud chuckled. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“Hey, it’s been my absolute pleasure.” Zack basked in the wonderful feeling of having helped Cloud. “It’s about time I return the favor—um… I didn’t _cause_ this, right?” His mood slumped a fraction.

“Huh?”

“You said when you get stressed you get like this. I imagine I’m stressing you out, especially the last few days,” Zack tacked on a quiet, “Sorry.”

“No. Don’t think that. This is just…” Cloud shrugged, “something that happens.”

Zack wasn’t completely sure about that. He felt responsible. “Okay, well… I don’t want to add to the stress, um… did you drive here? Let me pay the parking fee, or let me call you a cab.”

“Tifa dropped me off yesterday, but… no. It’s alright,” Cloud shook his head and gave a tight smile, “I can get my own cab.”

“No, no. Please… let me. I’d love to be able to do more for you.”

Cloud’s sky-blue eyes opened a fraction wider. He batted his lashes in thought and his lips closed around unspoken words of rejection. A moment later he gave a little smile and his cheeks turned pink. “Are you sure you can afford it with everything that’s happening in your life?”

Zack barked with laughter. “Yeah, buddy. The military pays for everything. It’s fine.”

Pleasure drained from Cloud’s face. Zack realized his mistake too late, but the man changed the topic, “Will you be okay?”

Cloud’s concern warmed him. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me. I want you to have a nice break from all this. Quit wasting your time with me and go pack for your flight tomorrow.”

“I’m not wasting my time with you, but… yeah… I have a lot of packing to do still,” Cloud murmured and refocused on the programming on the TV.

Cloud lingered for a while longer to finish the show they were watching. Zack longed to take Cloud’s hand in his but refrained. He was pleasantly surprised when Cloud gave him a big hug, without so much as a monkey screech or wide-stretched arms to initiate it. Zack hugged Cloud back as tight as he could and didn’t want to let go.

He held so many feelings for Cloud. He didn’t know what to label them or how to express them. He’d tried though… hadn’t he? Wanting kisses, telling him how absolutely gorgeous he was, how much he meant to him. Zack couldn’t figure it out. Though… he supposed… everything had been a game to him before. Cloud had been a distraction. It had been fun seeing his cheeks light up. But now… ever since yesterday—when he’d thought he’d never see Cloud ever again and that he would die—or _hoped_ he might… now things felt different: weighty, important, _real._ It’s like everything leading up to the amputation had been a dream, and now his life was actually beginning again. 

What did he want from Cloud?

“Thank you for everything. Thank you for being in my life,” he spoke against Cloud’s ear.

Cloud hugged him tighter. “Thanks for looking after me. I’ll put in a good word for you with my mom.”

Their hug ended. Cloud pulled away first. They exchanged soft glances. Zack groped for Cloud’s hand without breaking eye contact, and squeezed when he found it. A heartwarming smile and a reciprocated hand-squeeze later Cloud slipped off the bed, got his shoes on, collected the rest of his gear and left. He gave a warm backward glance to Zack, and a little wave.

That delicate smile painted on Cloud’s face went straight to Zack’s chest, easing the perpetual heavy forlorn grief inside himself and smoothed it over with hope and warmth. Cloud wouldn’t still be here hanging around and helping him if he didn’t like him. Zack held onto that hope. The future trajectory of his life felt like it depended on hope, so he needed to cling on to it wherever he found it. 

Especially right now, when he didn’t think he could offer anyone anything: not his employer, not his friends, not Cloud. But once he was all fixed up ‘ _look out, world_ ,’ and ‘ _look out, Cloud_!’ Zack grinned to himself, feeling the stirrings of determination and enthusiasm thrum in his veins. Things would be all right. He would get stronger. Better. He’d fix himself up. He’d make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter music - [What Have I Done by Dermot Kennedy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTG1YWBFpA0)  
> And a mid-season end song to leave you on a (hopeful) high - [Up and Up by Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPNTC7uZYrI&ab_channel=Coldplay)
> 
> I assume you are all happy with this much sought after POV shift. It was fun to write and to deep-dive into what being Zack Fair must be like in these harrowing circumstances. He's a mess but gods, love him❤️!
> 
> Alas, I’m going to leave you all resting at this point in the story. I hope you'll agree with me that it's a good spot. My aim is to leave you feeling optimistic and looking forward to the fun that is to come. I think we passed the major pain points of the fic, but there'll still be lots of facepalming agony coming up as these two hot-messes figure themselves and each other out 😅
> 
> Again, my aim is to come back in 2 weeks, but realistically it might be closer to a month. I hope it won’t be more. I have a lot of stuff to edit and rewrite and add to. I look forward to bringing you the rest of the story ASAP. It will quite possibly grow in chapter length, so please look forward to it 🙏
> 
> Thank you for the monumental support. I’m so happy so many of you are invested in these two dorks getting together and figuring themselves and their issues out.
> 
> All my contact info can be found on my [ AO3 Profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cream_pudding/profile). Follow me on [Tumblr](https://goo.gl/pFnbwh) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/creampudding_) for updates and Clack related reblogs/retweets 😍 And subscribe to this story to receive emails of chapter updates.
> 
> Comments, thoughts, screams, kudos, and fanart/fanworks mega appreciated... y’know… if anyone feels like feeding me while I’m off on my editing adventures 😊😘
> 
> I'll miss you all and I look forward to the next time we meet ✌️
> 
>  **EDIT 16th November:** Hi! I'll be back with more in December 2020. I've made great progress and I'm close to finishing up the re-writes. I've added nearly 100k extra words to this story and I hope you'll enjoy!  
> ~ 🍮 ~


	12. What the Heart Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud visits his family home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RAR!!!! I'm back! It's good to be back!!!
> 
> It took longer than expected but I've whipped the fic into shape. I've added a few more chapters and upped the word count. I've still got to write and edit the last two chapters but I think I'll be ok now to power through without needing to take any more extended breaks.
> 
> From now until end of Jan I'll post fortnightly chapter updates, and when we hit Feb I'll go back to weekly updates.
> 
> Thank you to prurient_curiosity for beta'ing for me. Thank you to Capt_BA for keeping me constant Clack company over the months it took to edit the story.
> 
> This chapter contains strong Sefikura vibes - a hint of NSFW, but heed the story tags. This fic will forever be Clack ❤️  
> Some hard-hitting 'oof' moments coming your way.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

After a long flight and a good sleep, Cloud awoke in his old bedroom, but it no longer looked like it once had. The dark gray walls were now a blue shade of white, giving the space a breezy and comfortable feel, perfect for a guest bedroom. One of the family dogs, a 12-year-old saarloos wolfdog, by the name of Nanaki, slept at the foot of Cloud’s bed like he always did when Cloud visited.

Nanaki’s quiet presence had served as a great source of comfort to Cloud over the years. The dog had been present throughout most of his teenage angst, several existential crises, his choice to embark on a military career, and the ultimate downfall of it with his diagnosed adrenal fatigue. Yes, Nanaki had even mopped up the tears of his heartbreak, and been privy to his sullen, angry determination to pack up and leave around 5 years ago.

Home had been difficult to stay in. And yet, he had come back here for respite, not for the first time either. But this particular break from his life seemed unwarranted now, considering he'd made up with Zack two days ago.

He wanted to be back at the man’s side, but also had a mission to complete here: ensure Zack _would remain_ where he was, until he got better to leave. 

Cloud curled his lip and felt numb inside over the prospect of Zack going back to his life one of these days. He pushed it aside and got up, patted Nanaki as he waited for the dizzy spell to wear off, and then went to the bathroom to freshen up. 

The day was his to spend however he enjoyed, as the two-story house was empty at present, with all occupants out at their respective jobs. Cloud wandered around his old home—it wasn’t the one he’d grown up in—but this had been his home for most of his formative years. He knew which floorboards creaked, which paint scratches and dents he’d created, and which ones Roxas, his brother, had been responsible for. He stopped and glanced at his brother’s rock collection—it looked substantially larger than when he’d last seen it. 

Footsteps scurried and drew Cloud’s attention. He followed Nanaki down the stairs and got almost bulldozed by Chance, a black german shepherd. He gave the boisterous canine a good rub all over and headed into the living room, which housed a lounge, fireplace, and his father's fishing trophy cabinet. His own trophies of when he did competitive riding stood amongst them, even though once upon a time they had been houses in their own cabinetry. They were all junk anyway. He didn’t know why his parents kept them around. He flopped down on the comfortably worn lounge, switched on the TV, and vegetated.

He liked his quiet time, though he found himself thinking of Zack a good portion of it, especially when he found programs he normally watched with the other man. He wondered how he was doing. Was he getting help? Was he doing his exercises? Would he talk to people about his issues? Then there was the _other_ thing which ran around his head; their fight on the roof. Being equated to a distraction and getting called out for pushing too hard. He forgave Zack. He understood on a logical level, but in his heart, it still hurt. Cloud was annoyed at himself for being annoying. He really had to try and do better. 

He let the unpleasant thoughts slip and instead wondered why he had gotten over his exhaustion so fast. He had thought about it on the three-hour plane flight, and it didn’t seem to want to leave him. Nanaki’s presence had always helped him in the past. Was it weird to equate Zack with a dog? That thought made him smile. His attention shifted to Chance, their other, more exuberant dog who, despite her 13 years of age, still acted far more youthful, and kept Nanaki on his toes. Zack was more like Chance—that thought brought up a bubble of laughter from him.

The hours whiled away and as evening drew in, one by one, people returned home. First, it was Xion, his sister-in-law. She needed Cloud’s help to bring in boxes of assessments her students had handed in.

Then Roxas arrived and took Cloud upstairs to show him all the new rocks he’d found and been given by a new friend he’d made not too long ago. Cloud listened to it all patiently. He enjoyed Roxas’ enthusiasm. 

Edmund, Cloud’s father, came home as night fell and Cloud assisted him with preparing dinner. Edmund talked about work. Cloud listened and worked. It was incredibly nice to be absorbed into his family's domesticities like he had never been gone.

And then Cloud’s mother came home, just in time for their evening meal. The family sat in the comfortably furnished dining room which adjoined the kitchen. They had their meal which consisted of a pasta dish, various salads, and a bowl of dinner rolls. Conversations revolved around everyone's workday, and eventually, Cloud’s parents wanted to know everything that had been going on in his life since they had last seen him over 7 months ago. This gave him a perfect segway to talk about Zack.

"Work's been good. I've started doing regular deliveries to Sergeant Zack Fair—you know of him, right?"

Cloud's parents looked at each other before Claudia turned her attention onto Cloud. "Yes."

"Is that the guy who got himself all shot up saving all those people?" Xion asked and held out her hand, “Salad please, honey.”

"Yeah, that’s him, right, Cloud?" Roxas supplied, and passed the bowl to Xion before he gave Cloud a pointed look.

Cloud nodded.

“He’s like a celebrity. You know him?” Xion said.

Cloud nodded again and chewed his food thoroughly so he’d keep his grimace down over the thoughts of Zack being a _celebrity._

“What’s he like?”

Cloud shrugged. “Like you’d expect him to be like.”

Xion frowned. Roxas tittered.

"Is he doing okay?" Xion asked and heaped her plate with greenery.

"Yeah. He's recently had an amputation—"

"Yikes!" Xion said.

Cloud pointedly looked at his mother, "It's been really hard on him. I think you heard he might get moved to another hospital?"

"I've had a conversation or two about the issue," Claudia said coolly between mouthfuls. "I'd much rather hear about your life though, darling."

"But this is my life. I've been there, watching Zack get better. The hospital environment's been really tough on him, but he's comfortable now, so moving him—" 

"Darling, enough. I'll have a meeting with you in my study after dinner. I want to hear how you've been doing."

Cloud huffed and stabbed his broccoli. "Fine," he murmured.

A frown crossed Claudia's face. "Are you looking after yourself? If you need, you can always come back here—"

"I'm fine. I'm not a baby." Despite a general annoyance ruffling him, he also found the semblance of a smile begin to tug at his mouth. But he frowned. "What have you been up to, Roxas?" he deflected.

“Oh, y’know. Same old same old. Training at the barracks. Hey, can we go to the ranch and ride some chocobos? Xi and I really miss doing that with you.”

“Yeah! We found a new trail a few months ago. There are lots of logs and things to jump the birds over. We wanted to have a competition to see who could go furthest. Will you have time?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Roxas and Xion both glared at Cloud with menacing scrunched-up noses. He huffed in slight amusement. “Alright. I will. Is that better?”

“Much.” Xion said and Roxas responded with smug smiles and nods.

Dinner conversation went by more pleasantly than it had started and then Cloud finally got a private audience with his mother.

“You know I can’t tell you anything, darling, even if I knew the answer.” She sat at her desk, the small lamp shone to provide extra light for her as she looked at her laptop’s screen and pulled up files.

“Oh… so nothing’s been decided yet?” Cloud leaned his elbows against the mahogany desk he sat opposite of his mother from.

“Not yet. I’m still waiting for Sephiroth’s report. Sergeant Fair’s medical team also needs to hand down their recommendations. He’s had an operation recently so…” She typed away at something.

Cloud held down his smile but indulged in the lifting of the weight on his heart. It sounded like Sephiroth was coming through for him—in the stalling department, at the very least.

“Do you think his prospects of staying where he is are good?”

“It’s not my call, hon. The reports will tell us what we need to know.”

“What’s your plan for him?”

Claudia’s weary eyes raised and beheld Cloud. “What are all these questions about? Are you fond of him?”

He balked, not enjoying the instant heat rising inside and up his neck. “I’m just a concerned friend.”

“Well, he must be a _special_ friend, because my eldest son doesn’t make a habit of taking such a hands-on approach with people.” She rested her chin in the cup of her hand and smiled.

Cloud disconnected from the eye contact. “If you had to be witness to someone rebuilding themselves and their life after a tragedy—day in, day out—you’d do everything you could to make it easier for them too. It’s what being compassionate is all about,” he waxed with a mutter.

Silence greeted him. He ventured a look back at his mother to see her wearing a soft smile. 

“At least we raised you with a good heart. Did you come here because you miss your family or because you have this agenda?”

Cloud wrinkled his nose. His mother tittered.

“I’ll take that to mean ‘a bit of both.’” She rubbed at her face and sighed. 

Cloud stared at his mother as she ran her hand through her hair and scratch at her scalp. “You okay, mom?”

She smiled at him. “Yes. Just tired. Long hours. There’s lots going on all the time. You know your cousins, Phillipa and Sirius are going to graduate at the end of the year? They’re so excited to move on and further their training and interests.”

Cloud folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah.”

“You should get them something nice for Christmas. They always are so fond of you. It would be nice to find something special to help them celebrate. I think your uncle Rufus is going to make a speech.”

“Oh no. So… I should get them earplugs?”

She chuckled. “Be a little more creative, dear. And no sneaking off. Now that Phillipa’s finished school she’ll be retaking the entrance exam and physical—you know she deferred it, right? She went back and finished her studies, but now she’s going back to pursue her career in engineering.”

“She still wants to be on active duty?”

Claudia nodded and hummed as she clicked around the screen. “She’ll be leaving for the same barracks you trained at. Maybe you can give her a pep talk, some pointers. She’s very excited. You always liked engineering too, didn’t you?”

“Mechanics, actually.”

Claudia hummed and smiled and kept talking about Cloud’s cousins and their plans. Cloud tuned out and wondered how much of what his mother was saying was supposed to be a trap to entice him to get back into finishing his own training. Well… he didn’t _really_ need to wonder. He knew it was all geared toward that one single point.

He stayed in her study for a bit longer, indulging her in the softly worded expectations and wishes she had for him until his mood soured too much. “Can you stop pushing your agenda on me?” Cloud interrupted, having had enough of his mother's talk.

“What agenda?”

“The ‘you want me back in the family business’ agenda.”

“Well, I just never understood why you quit. Sephiroth and I were getting really close to finding something suitable for you when you left.”

“No. It was suitable _for you_. Not for me. I didn’t want to waste my life filing reports and sitting behind a screen or whatever that was going to be. And I don’t want any of it now either. None of it.”

"You shouldn't be so picky in these matters. Beggars can't be choosers."

Heat rose to Cloud’s cheeks. "Beggar? You think I _begged?_ I didn't want any of this. You decided to get all up in my business because you couldn't face what a disappointment I would be to you for not making it." He balled his hands into fists.

"You're not a disappointment." She sighed. "I'm sorry… those were the wrong words, honey. I just want the best for you."

"I did what was best for me. I didn't need your interference."

“I never interfered. I saw you struggling and wanted to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t need it.”

“But you dropped out.”

“Yeah, so? I just didn’t want to be there anymore. Why’s that so hard to swallow?”

Claudia leaned back in her chair. “You say one thing but in your heart… I don’t know how you can get any satisfaction from delivery driving—”

Cloud rolled his eyes, settling in for the ‘here we go again’.

“Don’t roll your eyes. You always dismiss things.”

“I’m happy with my life, mom.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. You thrive on challenges. What’s challenging about what you do now? The military provides you with opportunities to grow beyond the boundaries you’ve set for yourself.”

“I never set adrenal fatigue for myself,” he snapped.

“That’s not… what I meant, darling,” she said, softening.

“But it’s what you’re thinking. You still think I’m faking it. Or overblowing it somehow.”

She sat with that for a long moment while the blood rushed in Cloud’s body. He stayed because he wanted to hear her admit it once and for all.

“I think… what I really think is that something happened, and it crushed your heart, and you’ve gone away and turned your back on everything you hold dear while you mend. And maybe it’s adrenal fatigue, or maybe it’s something else. You can talk to me. I can help you get back in—”

“I don’t want your help!” Cloud rose with a screech of the chair. His limbs trembled. He puffed. His mother’s face grew stern and she perceived his outburst as disrespectful. “Sorry,” he muttered, not needing to be told that he’d overstepped. “I’m tired. I’ll go sleep this off.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

###### 

Cloud fumed and distanced himself from his mother for several days. There was a rousing disgust at how little she thought of him. Anger rose over being seen as a charity case. A little voice niggled in his head how she wasn't entirely wrong though… he missed his life having direction. He used to have dreams and things to strive for. Where had it all gone to? He wished… really wished he'd been able to fight through his condition—come out the other end victorious. Beaten 'his lot in life'. He soured toward himself and his own failings, until Sephiroth came over, which was a nice distraction.

That evening saw the Strife household in a tizzy. It was a real treat to have Sephiroth around. Roxas had a lot to talk to him about, as had their father—they had always been fishing buddies from way back when. Edmund lamented that he wouldn’t be able to join Cloud and Sephiroth on the trip in the early morning.

Cloud didn’t feel the same way about his dad missing out on the chance to go fishing with them. He looked forward to alone time with Sephiroth, especially as none was to be had this evening because it was family time. The old chess board got pulled out and they all had a mini chess competition with modified rules which they’d carefully crafted over the decades of doing this.

There had always been a pecking order. Sephiroth ruled as king. Then it was Claudia, Edmund, Cloud, Xion, and lastly Roxas—correction! It was now Sephiroth, Claudia, _Xion_ , and _then_ Edmund. Cloud marveled as he watched her beat his father in a match. 

“Wow. You’ve really improved.” He was impressed but also slightly annoyed. He’d been playing for most of his life and Xion had only started 3 years ago.

She grinned. “Edmund’s been great at teaching me.”

“Now she flogs me,” he lamented.

“It’s alright, honey. You win some, you lose some.” Claudia rubbed Edmund’s back.

“Or in Xion’s case, you win an awful lot.” Roxas tittered and dropped a kiss on Xion’s cheek. “Now, Cloud! It’s our turn!” Roxas eagerly shoo’ed the previous pair away from the table and chessboard and line up the pieces.

“What’s got you so eager?” Cloud chuckled.

“Xion’s been teaching me all her greatest moves. I’ll beat you this time.” A challenge sat in Roxas’ words and in the way he grinned.

Cloud smiled. He felt a _little_ bit nervous but didn’t let it show. “Let’s see.”

Roxas did _not_ beat Cloud. But it had been hairy. Roxas sat dejected, shoulders slumped as Cloud took the king, with a lot of relief.

“Better luck next time, Rox. You did really well though,” Cloud encouraged. “Xion’s training’s paid off.”

“You did so great. You were so close!” Xion swooped in and placed her arms around Roxas’ shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Just you wait. Come Christmas Roxas and I will rule the roost.”

“Looks like you’ve got some work cut out for yourself if you hope to not get supplanted.” Sephiroth hummed with amusement and looked at Cloud. “And you Roxas, you were very close. A little bit more patience and you’ll beat your brother eventually,” Sephiroth's smooth baritone rumbled with a chuckle.

“No patience needed. Christmas will be my time to shine!” Roxas yelled. "I'm coming for you!" He pointed at Cloud.

"Oh-oh," Cloud said with a cocky smirk.

* * *

Before Cloud retired for the night he stopped by Sephiroth's room with a soft knock.

"Cloud, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you would be asleep by now.” Sephiroth stood at the guest bedroom door wearing nothing but sleeping slacks.

Cloud gulped. Heat rose inside himself as he—try as he might _not to_ look—stared at Sephiroth’s bare chest and muscular arms. Everything about Sephiroth was toned and lean. His silver hair pooled in the valley of his shoulders and cascaded down the front and back like rivers of silver caught in the early morning light. Cloud cleared his throat. “I, ah. I just…”

“I am sorry that I am not adequately dressed.” Sephiroth went to pull away as if to get something from inside his room.

Cloud flung his arm out. “Oh, no. N-no. It’s fine. You’re—” He tucked his hand under his armpit and berated himself while he simultaneously pulled his thoughts back up into his skull. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to check if you needed anything before I head to bed.”

“That is very thoughtful of you. I am quite alright. Thank you for your concern. Will you be alright getting up so early tomorrow morning?” he asked with a small tilt of his head.

Cloud nodded. “I’ll get a thermos of coffee and I’ll be good. It’s easier to wake up when I have something to look forward to.” He gave Sephiroth an easy-going smile and received a soft expression in return.

Sephiroth placed his hand on Cloud's shoulder, squeezed and provided comfort in the firm-but-gentle touch. Cloud bade him goodnight and left for his bedroom. The pressure and warmth of Sephiroth’s touch ghosted and bled into his very skin. The sight of Sephiroth all bare-chested stayed in his mind’s eye until sleep took him, but he had a restless and weary slumber because of his dreams. 

Cloud found himself sandwiched between his mattress and Sephiroth. Warm, delicate, and long fingers pressing and caressing. The touches pulled quiet pants out of Cloud and kisses fluttered and turned into licks and sucks. Cloud writhed and arched his back as he searched for Sephiroth's hand and grasped him with frightful strength.

Cloud woke up groggy and disoriented. His groin throbbed with unfulfillment. He rolled over and slammed his alarm to snooze and tried to get back to sleep to maybe catch the end of the dream. It wasn’t to be though, not even after he slammed his alarm a subsequent two more times. He conceded it wasn’t meant to be and got up. He hadn’t had a dream like that since… Cloud couldn’t remember. He blamed his close proximity to the man. It had always resulted in needy nights. He rubbed his head, unsure if he was unhappy that Sephiroth still brought on such strong dreams in him.

He left that thought behind, got dressed, and with a heavy shuffle to his steps made his way to the kitchen where he was greeted by Sephiroth—thankfully fully dressed. The sight of him pepped Cloud up a little more.

All their things had already been packed the previous night so after Cloud made himself a coffee they got into Sephiroth’s car and drove up into the mountains to a lake known for its abundant trout. The trip up was perfect. They chatted like old friends and Sephiroth let Cloud sleep when he couldn’t hold the yawns at bay any longer.

When they arrived at the lake and unpacked their gear, Cloud relaxed with his thermos of coffee. The bitter brew mixed and mingled with the cool morning air and the fresh and fragrant scent of soil and pine needles.

They sat in chairs at the end of a long pier, against the backdrop of the still and tranquil lake. The body of water acted like a giant mirror and reflected the stars and dark shadows of the trees that encircled and guarded the serene beauty all around.

Night creatures buzzed and hooted. The fishing reels ticked and clicked as they rhythmically cast their lines. The two men quietly exchanged soft words around current affairs, books they had read, and other subject matters as they came to mind.

“I think you have gotten a little rusty in your chess playing,” Sephiroth said. “You would have never let Roxas get so close to beating you before.”

Cloud chuckled in an attempt to keep the shame at bay. “Well, he _has_ been getting lessons from Xion. Who knew she would get so good so fast.”

“While she certainly is a remarkable young woman I also think your father has been getting sloppy. I am quite confident that you can beat them both easily.”

Sephiroth’s faith in him warmed Cloud. “I wouldn’t go that far. I think I’ve gotten a bit rusty since I haven’t had anyone to really play against on a regular basis. Once a year at Christmas doesn't really make for great practice.”

A rumble trembled in Sephiroth’s throat, one Cloud knew to be the sound of amusement. “I could give you a tune-up a little later if you would like.”

A shiver ran through Cloud. “I was supposed to go riding with Roxas and Xion later this afternoon. Do you want to come along? If we have time we can play chess after that.”

“I haven’t ridden a chocobo in years.”

Cloud smirked. “I could give you a tune-up if you would like.”

Sephiroth chuckled. “Maybe, if you think it wouldn’t take up too much riding time.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it right back up.”

They sat comfortably and the smiles bathed their faces. Cloud’s heart hammered. He recast his line. A tremble ran through him caused by the chill night air. 

Sephiroth took note, pulled out a blanket from somewhere, moved his chair closer, and draped the fabric over Cloud's lap and his arm around Cloud's shoulders. “Are you feeling tired?”

Cloud hummed and turned his face into Sephiroth’s chest, against the silken fabric of his cotton shirt. Sephiroth smelled so good. So familiar. A sweet hint of vanilla with the robust, yet delicate scent of lavender. Sephiroth had found a shampoo he liked about a decade ago and since then had never deviated to another brand. Cloud was pretty sure that particular blend wasn’t commercially available anymore, and yet, the fragrance of Sephiroth’s hair and how it clung to him, never changed. 

Nothing about Sephiroth seemed to ever change. He was warm, caring, supportive. Never judged. Cloud couldn’t remember why they had ever drifted apart. This moment felt too good. The comfort Sephiroth brought him drooped Cloud’s eyes. His head felt filled with lead. He dozed until a tug on his line roused him.

Sephiroth helped Cloud reel it in and shortly after he also had a nibble on his line. Cloud helped Sephiroth when he dropped the slippery creature he'd just caught and they both couldn’t stop laughing. 

As the sun rose their fishing expedition came to a close. Cloud felt like he woke from a dream, woke up to himself: his embarrassing thoughts, his dreams, the past, the shared reality of their history, but most of all his worries and stresses. The biggest of which was Zack, so, as they stood at an undercover bench on the rocky lakeshore, to clean and gut the fish they had caught, Cloud began to talk about the hospitalized man.

“Part of my visit is to hand the report to your mother and discuss the matter with her,” Sephiroth said when Cloud left a gap for him to speak.

“You’ve completed the report already?” Cloud almost lost grip on his knife. Panic flooded him over the prospect of Zack being moved before he ever had a chance to come back and see him.

"Considering it took ten days longer than I originally told the committee it would take…" Sephiroth _hmpfed._

“Did you get reports from his medical team? Did you get second and third opinions? What’s it say? What did you end up deciding on?”

“I have done my due diligence. It is all in the report. Maybe your mother will let you read it before it gets published next week,” Sephiroth said and serenely descaled the large trout.

Cloud groaned. “Can’t you tell me? I won’t tell anyone.”

With a deep sigh, Sephiroth turned his attention onto Cloud. “My findings enforce the opinion I shared with you at our last meeting. I understand you care about him, but perhaps steel your heart.”

Cloud’s stomach dropped and heat flooded him. “Despite _everything,”_ he spat, _“_ you still couldn’t find _your_ heart?”

Sephiroth’s jaw clenched. “For the military’s sake he should be moved.”

“That’s _always_ what it is with you!” Cloud snapped. He stabbed the cutting board with the tip of his knife. “The _military_ first! The family _first!_ Your _job_ and your _title_ first!” he spat, indignation coursed through him. “Human feelings can go _fuck_ themselves!” Cloud furiously wiped his hand on a towel, threw it down, and stormed off.

“Is this about him or me?” Sephiroth called after, with a deep calm, much to Cloud’s distaste. There was absolutely _nothing_ unusual about that. 

Cloud didn’t know the answer to Sephiroth’s question. He didn’t stop to turn around and respond. He simply stomped over the gravelly lakeshore toward the car park and washroom facilities to get the stink off his hands.

* * *

Cloud sat quietly in the car which Sephiroth drove. Nothing but the wheels on the road and the wind as it blew through the vents could be heard. They had shared civil words while they’d packed up their gear, but nothing which pertained to anything other than whatever job was directly at hand and in need of doing.

As the silence stretched on, Cloud felt a little bad and like he should be the one to mend the divide. He had blown up like a volcano, unreasonably so. After many attempts to will himself to say something—and to find the _right words_ —to make things right, Sephiroth spoke first, “I fear it was a mistake to come all this way. I had hoped we could have a nice time out, but the past… we cannot move beyond it.”

Cloud grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault. I lost it. I-I don’t know why.”

“I think you _do_ know why. I would appreciate it if we could talk about it.” Sephiroth gave him a stern look before his gaze switched back onto the road. “And I mean _really_ talk about it.”

Cloud took a few deep breaths. He knew he owed Sephiroth a better apology. Zack flashed before his eyes. Guilt swept through him as he remembered how he’d admonished Zack over his own avoidance of important topics of conversation. He really _was_ a hypocrite. He dug deep, needing to make things right. “I… don’t like how you’re taking everything I care about away from me.”

“So it _is_ about him.”

Embarrassed, Cloud needed to set Sephiroth straight. “It’s not like _that_. I care about his well-being. He’s my friend. Serving means everything to him. I don’t want to see the military destroy his life any more than it already has. I know how you throw people away when they no longer work the way you need them to work and I’m really worried about Zack.”

Sephiroth shot him a glare before he returned his attention back on the road. His side-profile had a hard edge to it. “You weren’t thrown away. You walked away.” 

“This isn’t about me.”

“Are you sure?” 

Cloud huffed and grit his teeth. Maybe it was a little? He harbored such disdain. How could he say it didn’t taint his opinions? “I left out of principle. Everyone always says you should remove yourself from a toxic relationship. I can’t imagine a more toxic relationship than with the military. And everyone I care about is in it and refuses to leave,” he bit, unable to keep the resentment at bay. 

Sephiroth clicked his tongue and muttered, “Nothing has changed in all these years.”

Cloud gave the other man a disgruntled look, and a slight, “Huh?”

“I was hoping things would be different, that _this_ was a clear signal that you were ready, but… I am sorely disappointed.”

 _“Disappointed?”_ He rounded on Sephiroth and turned in his seat so he could glare. “What have _you_ got to be disappointed about?”

With a deep sigh, Sephiroth said, “I would like to discuss this with you in a civil manner if I might.”

Cloud scoffed and turned away, resentfully saying, “Go on then.” He'd heard it all before anyway.

Sephiroth drove quietly for a while longer as he collected his thoughts. Cloud almost burst with agitation with every second that passed in silence. But Sephiroth then said, “You won’t like what I have to say, but it comes from a place of genuine care for you.”

“Get on with it. You’re making me sick,” Cloud snapped. His leg jittered and his fingernails dug into his palms.

“Very well… your attitude toward the military is very poor. You hold an exceedingly selfish, and frankly, childish worldview. I will advise you—like I have many times in the past—people will never do as you want them to. They will not put their lives on hold or change just to suit your needs,” Sephiroth said in a very even tone while his eyes didn’t waver from the road ahead.

Cloud clenched against the roar that threatened to burst from his chest. It lodged in his throat. “You really think with _everything_ that’s happened to me—”

“I haven’t finished talking,” Sephiroth interjected, an edge to his voice which made Cloud instantly shut up. “I know what happened to you is damaging and I am truly sorry for that. I tried to shield you and to help you find a way to have the best of the world you wanted—and what was expected of you—to mesh with a world you could function in, but I failed you. I am sorry for that. And as much as you aren’t to blame for your body’s chemistry, you are however to blame for your attitude, your actions, and your outlook on life.”

Cloud's stomach clenched as if he’d been punched. “Excuse me?” he grit with a tone of challenge and a dare for him to continue.

“I maintain that you could have made a fine officer had we been able to find a position suitable for you, had you waited and given it a chance, instead of running away with contempt for everything your family and you, yourself, stood for and believed in.”

“I didn’t run away. It was never going to work. I moved on with my life.”

“For someone who has moved on you, let the past dictate to you an awful lot.”

Cloud gaped. "What—what would you even know about it? You haven't been in my life for _four_ years."

"All I need is to see you like this—hot-headed, defiant, oppositional to my observations."

"Maybe that's because they are bullshit,” Cloud leaned in. The strap of the seatbelt dug into his shoulder. A sting sat in the corner of his eyes.

"Or perhaps they hit too close to home for comfort," Sephiroth retorted calmly.

Cloud couldn’t look at Sephiroth. Something in his chest shattered. It had been small, but the weighty feel of it spiraled outward and doused the hot rage and numbed everything. He couldn’t focus on the scenery outside of the car window. His eyes glazed over. The hurt from the past breezed through him. It blinded him to everything. Static rang in his ears. And then, a small voice grew louder in the depth of his heart. What did Sephiroth even know about the hurt he’d gone through? A man so above everyone else, a man who had never been ridiculed could never understand—

“What do you hope to get out of the relationship you have with Sergeant Fair?” Sephiroth asked.

Cloud snapped out of his thoughts and the resentments attached to them. “It’s not a relationship. We are friends,” he half-snarled, leaned his elbow against the car window’s ledge, and rested his chin in his hand. He huffed, wrinkled his nose, and ground his teeth. He wanted out of the car. He wanted Sephiroth to shut up.

“You don’t keep military friends. If not for familial ties I am convinced you would leave everyone behind.”

With a cock of his brow, Cloud looked back over at the other man. “I’m still talking to _you,_ against my better judgment.”

“Yes, which is a great point of confusion for me. You pursued me so heavily and then disappeared from my life, only to pop back in.”

“I didn’t _pop!”_ Cloud sat up straight. “You _appointed_ yourself to come interview me.”

“And then you asked me to come visit you here, leaving me to wonder what you want.”

“What I want? I wanted to spend time with you, like in the past. You’ve been important to me. I’ve…” his cheeks heated up, “missed you. I’m not allowed to want to spend time with you?”

“With the way you slowly shut me out of your life and then disappeared, I should be forgiven for being so confused.”

“I was _hurting_. What do you expect of me? I had to leave the things I built my future around. You were one of those things,” he pointed at the other man harshly. “I had to leave because _you_ wouldn’t come with me. You _abandoned_ me.”

“You leaving should have been the thing that cemented us being together, but you kept me at arm’s length and somehow see it as _my_ abandoning _you?”_ Sephiroth shook his head. “You abandoned your future; the military, and myself. You are selfish and did it all because of spite.”

“That’s complete fucking _bullshit.”_ Cloud barked, his fists clenched and his heart sat in his throat. A sea of hurt and tears rose and shook in his voice and his hands. _“_ How am _I_ the selfish one? How the hell did I ever abandon _you?”_

With his voice and expression as even as a perfect scale, Sephiroth said, “We couldn’t have what you wanted when you were still serving. It wouldn’t have looked good. I was your superior, a close family friend. I know it caused you pain. I know what others said. I know how it affected you and I would hazard a guess it _still_ affects you to this day. You are selfish because you never realized that everything that happened… it hurt me too.” 

It was too cool and indifferent for Cloud’s liking. Cloud clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms. He snapped back, “What would you know of how hard it was to listen to everyone in my squad talking shit about me day and night?”

“I was questioned too. I had more to lose than you.”

Rage vibrated through Cloud's body. His heart hurt as it hammered against his chest. “But you played it safe.”

Sephiroth huffed. “We both knew that if you left the military it could have let us have what we both wanted, but I didn’t push you to leave. I supported you and did _everything_ in my power to give you a chance to stay. I wanted you to live out your greatest expectations, but you chose to go. After that, I hoped we could have a future together. That maybe you chose to leave so we could be together, but you didn’t want to engage with me any further. It would have reflected badly on me had we gotten together after you left, but I was willing to bear the humiliation of that.”

Cloud slapped the dashboard. He shot out a bark of, “I’m _humiliating?”_

“You know how hard it would have been for us because people always talk. I am in good standing with your family, but I wouldn’t have been after we got together. Yet to reiterate, I was willing to go through it all with you, _for you_. You knew that. We talked about it, but you slipped out of my life, and I don’t believe it was for any noble reason.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Cloud squeezed out between his teeth.

“There is nothing left for me to think except that you did everything you did to antagonize and alienate yourself. You couldn’t have what you wanted, the way you wanted it, so you left, making us both unhappy. So who is really the person who drops into the others’ life whenever it suits them?” Sephiroth shot Cloud a glare, the anger visible for once in his furrowed brow and flared nostrils. But it was only a flash, and disappeared again. “You asked me to come fishing with you. You want me at your family gatherings. It hurts me too, Cloud. That is why you are selfish. You take and expect everything from others but return nothing.” 

An instant gut reaction blew through Cloud. “No. I gave you—” Cloud struggled to swallow. “I…” It was like a tank rolled over him. “You…” Was… Sephiroth… _right?_ Had that really been what had happened? “No. You… there was no hope for me. You refused to give up….” The past rushed at him. Cloud heard his own pleas for Sephiroth to give up everything he had worked hard for in order to be with him, and the other man hadn’t budged. Hadn’t made any space for him. He remembered the hurt, an echo from the past now all too close as it throbbed through his body at that very moment. He _had_ turned his back on his future… but only because it had turned its back on him first. “I didn’t want to be with someone whose affection I’d always have to compete for. I didn’t want to come second place to your job.”

“I was willing to put you first.”

“Not true! You didn’t ever suggest leaving!” Cloud thumped the dashboard. “Not _once.”_ He thumped it again. “You are married to your work. You love nothing as much as you do your troops and your admin position, and the sound of your own voice.” His body trembled. His voice shook. “You know how much I loved you and you gave me the cold shoulder after I left. You say you know me, but if you really knew me you should have been around. _Especially_ at _that_ time, when I _needed_ you the most.” Cloud’s pulse rushed with heated upset. He grit his teeth and dug his nails into his thighs to keep the shake at bay.

Sephiroth pulled the car over. Cloud gave him a panic-stricken glance. “Why’re you pulling over? Are you going to kick me out?”

“No.” Sephiroth unbuckled Cloud’s seatbelt and then his own. He pulled Cloud into a tight embrace.

Startled and stunned, Cloud looked at the fabric of Sephiroth’s cotton shirt. He could see nothing else. He blinked. His tears slid out and soaked into the fabric. He turned his face so he could breathe. The arms around him felt stiff, as if unaccustomed to this form of contact. It was nothing like a hug from Z—

“We didn’t do right by each other. I cannot apologize enough to you for failing you the way that I did. But the resentment you hold is misplaced.” Sephiroth pushed Cloud away, held him by the shoulders, and calmly said, “I loved you. Still love you, but each interaction with you illustrates that we are not meant to be together. We have hurt each other. The past and our history will never let the broken parts inside ourselves mend.”

Sephiroth’s words smashed into Cloud. He reeled and blinked through his watery vision. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. "If you loved me why is today the first time I've ever heard you say it to me." He fought against the hollow feeling in his chest. Fought against the tears that threatened to spill. He wanted to keep them all inside. Wanted to drown in them to stop the pain.

Sephiroth stayed quiet but his gaze lay averted, cast off to the side in a chastened way.

Too many thoughts and sensations flashed through Cloud. The past sat right behind his eyes, lay heavy and burdened in his chest. Sephiroth was right: Cloud hadn't let go of anything in all this time. He'd only buried it.

"I know I haven't done you right. I know I should and could have done more," Sephiroth said. "You reached out to me, and that heartens me. I want to mend things between us because I will always care for you, but I also need to let you go. And I want to tell you something, to maximize your chance of reaching happiness.”

Like a blade, Sephiroth's words cleaved through Cloud’s chest. He rubbed the tears away with the heel of his palm, and muttered, “What’s that?”

“You are very taken with Sergeant Fair.”

Cloud tensed and blinked in confusion over the subject change. “We’re just friends,” he said hoarsely and leaned away.

Sephiroth cocked an eyebrow. “I will still ask you, what do you want out of your _friendship_ with Sergeant Fair?” He stressed the word so hard that the sarcasm was unmissable.

“We’re _friends,_ ” Cloud stressed back with irritation and shrugged out of Sephiroth’s hold.

“But what if you were to ever want more? What would it look like?”

“It wouldn’t look like anything.” Cloud trembled and felt attacked.

“You need to think about this or you will repeat your past mistakes because of your pride and your _principles._ You will be miserable and make those who care for you miserable too.”

“No I won’t.” Cloud snapped, full of indignation. “How dare you say that shit to me! Miserable? Past mistakes? Get off your high horse, you heartless drone.”

Sephiroth kept talking as if Cloud’s words were a mere gust of wind, “Zack _is_ a Sergeant now. I know his future seems uncertain, but he still holds the title. I will divulge to you in trusted confidence that none of us General’s are certain about the outcome of his hospitalization and what it will entail. But I can tell you that his career, though altered from its previous trajectory, is still very much aligned with the military. He is a valuable asset, one which will not be discarded unless he wishes to exit, and even then, he will always have connections to the military. If you are hoping for him to cut all ties and be with you, you may be sorely mistaken.”

Cloud jutted his jaw. He glared daggers at Sephiroth. “I never said that I wanted anything like that!”

“You may not say it but I can infer a possible future when looking at your past.”

“You’re clairvoyant now?” Cloud spat with derision.

Sephiroth stared, unamused. “You have a very clear pattern of behavior. You will keep repeating your past habits until you learn to stop holding on to the pain of the past—until you stop blaming myself or the military for your own actions. I want the best for you. I want to see you thrive. Your fondness for the Sergeant,” Sephiroth’s brows twitched with a held-back emotion, “is something new. You letting go of your own hurt enough to be there for someone else in his position gives me hope that you’ll mend from the past mistakes. So I feel I need to caution you—you said that you recognize that serving is important to him. I came to that same assessment by speaking with him as well. And I can see and understand it better than you; the passion and fire he holds because it runs in me too. It is true that my work is important to me. It _isn’t_ true that it was ever _more_ important than _you_. You and my work were on par, but I failed to show it to you. I want you to know that men like myself, and men like Zack Fair get our meaning from what we do. And whatever you hope to have with him in the future, I can predict, with certainty, that unless you unlearn your biases, and start being flexible with your expectations, you will have another heartbreak on your hands. And not just yours, but his as well.”

A tremor sat deep in Cloud’s body. Whether from outrage or upset he couldn’t tell. “You pompous… presumptuous… _asshole.”_

Sephiroth sighed and turned to the front. He ran his hands along the steering wheel. “I am not being malicious. All I want for you is to be happy, and if _he_ could make you happy I want to give you every chance to attain that happiness. So heed my words. You have always been headstrong, which is what I admire about you. You tread your own path, even in adversity. But it doesn’t have to be a lonely one if you listen and learn once in a while. Don’t break his heart like you did mine.” An unfamiliar sadness sat in Sephiroth’s eyes, one Cloud hadn’t ever seen before.

It cooled him and left him limp and speechless in his seat.

Both men buckled up and drove on in silence.

* * *

Nanaki pounced Cloud the instance he stepped foot into his home as if he could feel Cloud’s mood. 

“Cloud! Uncle! You’re back! Did you catch anything?” Roxas hurried down the stairs with a big grin and Xion came out of the living room.

“Two large trout.” Sephiroth held out the cooler bag. 

Xion took it with an enthusiastic, “Yum! I’ll get this to the fridge.”

Roxas grinned. “Good catch. Was it nice on the water?”

“Very. The wind was light and the water still,” Sephiroth said.

Footsteps came down the hall and Edmund appeared. “You’ve got to tell me all about it. Xion says you caught _two!”_ He breezed past Cloud and slapped Sephiroth on the back. He led them to the living room as they began to chat.

Cloud finally got Nanaki off himself. The boulder of discomfort shifted and eased as Sephiroth went further away from himself.

“Are you okay?” Roxas asked.

Cloud jerked with surprise. He breathed out, “Yeah,” and made to head upstairs.

“Are we still good to go riding?”

Cloud hummed, neither here nor there, and hurried up to the bathroom. He needed a shower.

The hot water cascaded down his back and cleared his head enough for unpleasant thoughts to filter through in regards to his life, his past, and his actions. It all seemed perfectly acceptable to him. He’d never had a choice. He’d been in a system that didn’t allow for weakness—didn’t allow for people like him who weren’t perfect, who didn’t conform. Yes, Sephiroth had tried—Cloud’s mother had tried too, to find a position for Cloud. He squirmed at the uncomfortable feelings those memories brought back—he scrubbed at his skin to wash the grime away, but his skin felt stained in ways that could never come off. There would always be whispers of him getting special treatment, of being favored—of not deserving to be where he was because of nepotism and… untrue slander. The more he thought, the more he remembered, the more he hurt. He had wanted _so desperately_ to belong, to achieve, to be seen as an equal. One day to be admired and honored because of all the hard work _he’d_ put into his own life and not because someone spoon-fed him and bestowed him undue accolades. 

A part of him was mad at himself: his body, his failings, and shortcomings. Another part hated—detested—the _system_ that had no place for him—would have no place for Zack either.

He was left with all these torrid emotions and more. They jostled for attention in his head and caused an overcrowding of feelings. He turned the hot water up until it burned. Until it took the neverending carousel of repetitive and disparaging thoughts away and then he got out and holed himself up in his room for a little while where he stared at walls that no longer felt like home. His dog, the ever silent companion, put his head on Cloud’s lap and nuzzled into him. It helped, and Cloud was able to face Sephiroth again after a while longer spent disconnected from the too-close-for-comfort feelings. He went out of his room and down the stairs with an air of indifference and dry eyes.

“Hey, bro, what’s happening?” Roxas approached him at the entry into the living room. 

“Nothing.”

“Did you have a sleep? You were up really early.”

“Yeah.” At least his condition had its uses for hiding certain things. But the mention of it also made him realize that he _was_ tired. He stifled a yawn.

“Great. Are you all rested up now so we can go riding?” That’s when Cloud noticed that Roxas was dressed in his gear. So was Xion. Sephiroth, who stood by the trophy cabinet with Edmund, eyed him coolly.

Guilt swept through Cloud. He'd invited Sephiroth out, but now… now Cloud wanted to be far away from him. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot. Let me get changed.”

“You always forget things when you’re sleepy,” Xion tittered.

“And he’s sleepy like all the time, right?” Roxas laughed.

Cloud walked away—with haste, to get away from the eyes that felt as if they bored into his back. He got changed and left with his brother and sister-in-law for the ranch where he’d spent a good portion of his early teen years riding chocobos until other interests had taken over his life. Sephiroth had been one of those. He felt annoyed that Sephiroth hadn’t asked to come along. Clearly, the man didn’t want to spend time with him. Cloud could have kept wallowing but when they arrived at their destination the smell of the ranch hit hard—manure, hay, feathers. Cloud’s bad mood slipped away. The squawk of the birds heartened him and his burden from earlier and the scathing, hurtful remarks faded into the background of his existence. He hadn’t been here for many years. He’d forgotten how much he actually enjoyed the hectic energy of the birds as he watched them get wrangled by the stablehands so their small party could ride them for a couple of hours.

He got up on a black bird named Hyperion. Roxas and Xion stayed on yellow birds as they didn't have Cloud's experience in handling the different breeds.

They dashed through the woods and it reinvigorated him. Just being outdoors did him a world of good, really. He followed Roxas and Xion as they wove through the trees. The feeling of the bird as it responded to his commands satisfied him and made him feel in control of at least one thing in his life. He looked forward to this clearing Roxas had raved about the entire trip over.

When they arrived at the cleared patch of dirt with fallen logs and stumps, Cloud understood what the excitement had been about. The three of them agreed on a route that wove through various obstacles and spent an hour in heated competition. Cloud was rusty but soon got the feel and rhythm of the bird under him and Hyperion listened well to him, which meant he wiped the floor with any task that had been set for him.

The trip out had definitely put a smile on Cloud’s face, one which not even his return home and the sight of Sephiroth could quash. Not completely, anyway.

Sephiroth asked how the ride had gone. Roxas and Xion talked everyone’s ears off about it. The previous guilt that Cloud had felt over Sephiroth's exclusion from the excursion returned, but he figured Sephiroth understood. Though at the same time Cloud also had his reservations about whether that was true or not. Sephiroth gave him meaningful glances. Cloud wished Sephiroth would stop that and would start to _act out_ the things he wanted to do or maybe even say. 

But Sephiroth didn't come after him when Cloud left the living room to get some air. Sephiroth never checked in. Cloud knew he wouldn't ever get his wish, because he'd never gotten it before so why would anything be different now?

That's where the problem had been, and would continue to remain, apparently.

The man was right. They would never work well together. And maybe it was because Cloud held onto his childish pride and expectations. He held on to his displeasure and world views. But so what? He was entitled to his opinions and values. After everything he'd been through, why should he change his attitude? 

Those private thoughts, as he helped in the kitchen, or found something to tidy up, or took the dogs for a walk, only served to rile him up further. But he held it together as the day dragged on forever.

Xion came to him as he absently picked through his brother’s rock collection. “It’s almost dinner time.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

Xion didn’t leave though. “Is everything alright with you?” she asked.

No one usually asked, so he figured that maybe his self-pity might be _too_ evident. "Is it obvious?" 

"Only a little," she smiled. "But it could also be your usual mood. I just thought I’d better ask."

Cloud gave a weak and crooked smile.

"Will you feel better once the General is gone?"

His stomach clenched. He nodded.

"Okay." She patted him on the shoulder. "You can sit next to me at dinner. I'm dying to taste that fish you caught."

Cloud felt better for her support and dinner was pleasant until the topic of Zack Fair came up—and this time it hadn’t been a topic he’d raised. Sephiroth had brought it up. Cloud felt inexplicably self-conscious. Even though Sephiroth never looked at him, he knew the intention behind the conversation.

Cloud was relieved for dinner to be over and anxious when Sephiroth and his mother disappeared into her study. He sat in the living room. A nervous shake ran through his leg as he waited for the sound of the study door to open.

Roxas burst through the arched doorway and sat nearly on top of him, the big grin hideously bright in Cloud's face.

"What's wrong?" Roxas practically sang.

"Nothing," was Cloud's automatic response.

"Oh, c'mon, why can you tell Xion but not me? You know, I told her to ask you, because I knew you wouldn't tell me."

Cloud briefly glanced at Roxas. He attempted to shift away. He crossed his arms.

Roxas growled and pursed his lips. "C'mon, bro. Tell me. Uncle Seph hasn't been around in ages, and then you show up and he shows up, and you're grumpier than usual. What happened?"

It irked Cloud that Roxas still referred to the man as _Uncle._ That was probably the biggest reason Cloud had never talked to his brother about what had really gone on in his life. He wasn't about to fess up now, especially since nothing would ever eventuate between himself and… _the General_ —for that was who Sephiroth would forever be. "We… had an argument."

"About this Zack guy?"

Cloud froze. He wasn't truly sure what the heart of the matter had been. Had it been Zack? Himself? His and Sephiroth's past? It all seemed enmeshed. He settled on one core issue, “Do you think my life is miserable?”

Roxas frowned. “Only you’d know the answer to that.”

Cloud hummed and hunched with his elbows on his knees and his hands balled up together. "He said that I could have had a future in the military, but that I turned my back on it and myself and my family. He called me spiteful and selfish."

"Oh. Ouch. He really said that?"

Cloud chanced another look over at his brother. "Do you think he's right?"

"That was like six years ago. Why are you talking about it now?"—He gasped, leaned in, and slapped his hand on Cloud's back. “Are you thinking of coming back to serve?"

That thought stung. He’d denied himself that option for so long. Had thought he’d made his peace with it but now? He grimaced. “No, nothing like that. Do you think he's right? _Was I_ selfish?"

Roxas leaned back and his hand slipped off Cloud. "For real?"

Cloud sat up and held his brother's gaze. "For real."

Roxas straightened and rested his arm on the lounge’s backrest. He looked off into the distance before turning back to Cloud. "Yes. You were. You were melodramatic and bratty. You could have done whatever you wanted without hurting everyone in the family. There are so many opportunities, but you didn't want to see or hear any of them. And you ended up putting all of dad's and mom's hopes on me. I never wanted to be on active duty. You know I wanted to be on the reserves, but now… bah," Roxas pulled a face.

Cloud's heart got heavier. His actions had consequences. Of course they did. He knew that. He never had given them much thought though, especially when he'd been busy… _running away…_ from everything. Maybe he really _had_ been. "Shit…. Roxas… I'm sorry."

Roxas shrugged. "It's been years. I really don't know why you're worried about it all of a sudden. What's with this Zack guy?"

Just like that, Cloud felt his heart clamp up. "Nothing."

"Why do you keep talking about him every single day then?"

"I don't."

"Please, you do. Do you have a _crush?"_ Roxas sing-songed and smirked.

Cloud tensed and leaned away from Roxas a fraction. "No. Weren't you paying attention? He's been in the hospital and I had to keep delivering flowers to him.”

“Oh, c’mon. Lighten up. I know you met him on the job and he’s your friend now. I think that’s really cool. It’s also okay to say you’re crushing on him.” Roxas smirked and leaned in.

“No.” With a hand to Roxas’ face, he pushed his brother away. “I don't have a crush. I’m really worried about him. He's been through a lot and he's been stuck in hospital for half a year and the military keeps shitting on him and making him scared for his future because of what happened to him and _keeps_ happening…" Cloud's heart raced. His voice rose. Heat spread. "And on top of everything else he's had a major, life-changing operation, so excuse me if I'm worried for my _friend._ I haven't heard from him since I've been here and on top of all _that,_ Seph and mom are conspiring to move Zack to another hospital where he doesn't know anyone and I just," he took a breath and slumped back against the lounge. He slowed down as he said, "don't know what's happening and I hope he's okay."

Roxas sat in silence. Cloud shot him a few glances while his heart dropped back down to an acceptable pace.

With a shrug, Roxas said, “Why don’t you call him?”

“He’s in hospital and doesn’t have a cell, as far as I know.”

“So just call the hospital.”

Cloud stared.

Roxas laughed. “You really never thought of that?”

Cloud tried to form words but only stinted noises came out.

Through more laughter, Roxas said, “I know you’re like a social recluse and that phone calls aren’t your thing, but still… it couldn’t have completely slipped your mind, right?”

Cloud’s silence made Roxas double over and burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. 

“You know I don’t like calling people,” Cloud grumbled and pouted. He crossed his arms.

“Yeah, yeah." Roxas wiped at his eyes. "Unless it’s for work, or family. And even when it’s family you don’t call unless it’s like an emergency,” Roxas goaded with a cheery disposition. “Just suck it up and call tomorrow if you’re so worried about him.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I should," he said coolly.

“Yes, you really should. Might make you shut up about him for a day.”

“I don’t talk about him every day.”

“You totally do. ‘Zack likes burgers. Zack has all these soft toy dogs. Zack needs to have this and that operation. Zack doesn't drink coffee. _Mom,”_ Roxas hollered, “have you heard any more news about Zack?’ You’re a broken record.” 

Cloud slumped further into the lounge and avoided looking at Roxas.

Roxas tittered and got up. “Well, I’m gonna go to bed. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you’re gonna call your _friend_ who you totally _don't_ have a crush on," he said as he giggled, but then, far more seriously added, "And don’t worry about what Seph says. It’s not like you’ll ever get back into serving. Kind of late now, so just keep living your life. I’ve been living mine like this long enough now that I’m over what happened in the past.”

A bubble of annoyance rose. Cloud shook the irritation away. “Were you really upset with me?” he gently called after Roxas, who walked toward the hallway stairs.

“I was, but we’re family. I’m over it.”

Cloud _humphed._

Roxas stayed by the doorway, turned around and faced Cloud.

“Yeah?” Cloud asked.

“You need to stop kidding yourself and admit that you _loooove_ Zack.”

Cloud threw a pillow after his brother, who ducked out and went up the stairs. He called out a “Night!” and his giggles echoed through the house until a door shut.

Cloud stewed on the lounge a little longer. He thought of the impact he had on his family, especially his brother, and just as his mind turned back toward Zack—to call him, even if that idea also caused discomfort—a soft click and the sound of footsteps drifted to Cloud’s ears.

He heard his mother and Sephiroth exchange quite goodnights’ and then Sephiroth walked past the living room toward the front door. He stopped to pick up the thrown pillow and exchanged a look with Cloud.

Cloud noted the suitcase Sephiroth carried. His heart sank. “You’re leaving already?” Sephiroth had been slated to stay another night and leave in the morning. Cloud felt responsible.

Sephiroth nodded. 

“Can I walk you out?” Cloud asked.

“I don’t wish to discuss formal matters with you,” Sephiroth said.

“I don’t want to either.”

“Very well then.” Sephiroth gestured with his arm and Cloud got up and walked toward him. He took the pillow and tossed it back onto the lounge before they headed for the door to go to Sephiroth’s car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night? It’s a long drive for you.”

“I have arranged accommodation at the base for tonight.”

Cloud’s guilt grew heavier. “Thank you for coming,” he tried but sounded too meek for his own liking. “I really enjoyed fishing with you.”

“Did you?” Sephiroth held the door open for Cloud as they went out into the warm summer night.

The air blew gently and crickets chirped in the dark. Parked cars dotted the quiet suburban street, and street lamps shone down their cones of light to dimly illuminate the empty road.

“I did. The fish was really good.”

“Ed has the best recipes. It was really quite delicious.”

They ambled down to Sephiroth’s car, which sat parked under a tree by the curb. He unlocked it with a quiet beep.

Cloud turned toward Sephiroth, who towered before him. Cloud felt too small. “It’s not a formal discussion if I want to apologize to you, is it?”

Sephiroth sighed out heavily. “It’s not. I, however, do not need your apologies. I would like to see you happy though. Don’t stand in your own way.” Sephiroth placed a hand on Cloud’s shoulder and squeezed.

The touch sent a tingle down his back. He nodded. “I didn’t like the things you said to me, and I don’t know if I agree with even half of it, but… I appreciate you telling me. I know you’ve always cared for me and looked out for me. I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved towards you. For… pushing you away.” He frowned.

Sephiroth gave a long stare down the road before he turned his attention back onto Cloud. “I accept your apology and I am sorry I couldn't pursue you in a way that would have had us meet half-way.” With that, he got into his car and wound the window down.

“Thanks again for coming. Sorry that I made a mess of things,” Cloud said.

“It was unfortunate, but it was also good seeing you again.”

“Do you think we can try again?”

“In what way?”

Cloud’s heart pounded. He shrugged.

Sephiroth grumbled a little. “I have been trying to move past you, successfully in some ways, unsuccessfully in others. I have made my peace with the fact that we can never be what we wanted to be. I don’t want you to hold on to any hope of that ever occurring between us. So when you say ‘try again’ I need you to be painfully specific.”

Cloud’s heart sat at the bottom of his soles. “I just… want us to be normal around each other. For _me_ to be normal around you. For me to not be scared to have people see us together." His insides churned and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He crossed his arms and held firm. "You’re right… I still think about those rumors. I still _hear_ them. I guess I want to learn to not care about them and just enjoy being with you—but not in _that_ way,” he added hastily. Something heavy dropped into his stomach.

“That sounds acceptable.”

Cloud gave a small, tight smile, to keep his lip from wobbling. “So… will you come over for Christmas? I do mean it… you always made Christmas fun.”

Sephiroth sighed with some sadness. “Very well. But if we have a repeat of what happened today, and the last few times we have met, it is better if we both keep our distance from each other. Understood? Rehashing the past is tiring.”

Cloud nodded. “Yeah. Understood. Sorry again.”

They said goodnight and Cloud watched Sephiroth drive off. His hands shook, his eyelids drooped. Exhaustion sat heavy. He really needed to get some sleep and once he retired for the night it came quick and dragged him down into restless slumber.

###### 

Cloud paced around the living room. Every so often he’d pick up and throw down his cell. His stomach churned. It was a simple call. But what would he say? Surely, Zack didn't care to hear from him—he knew that to be the dumbest thought. Zack had genuinely looked sad when Cloud had broken the news that he'd be away for a while. But surely a phone call wouldn't do anything. Surely, there were friends and family around. But Zack trusted _him._ Warmth spread through his body at that thought. 

He glowered at nothing in particular. Did he really have a crush? He shook his head. They were friends and he cared about Zack as a friend. The warmth inside turned up a fraction and ruffled through him as he thought back on the hugs and touches and… a desire to kiss—he cursed his stupid brain and picked up his phone once again, dialed the hospital, but hung up and threw the cell against the lounge. He walked away to make a cup of coffee.

His thoughts went back to Zack like a bee to a particularly attractive flower, but Cloud swatted the thoughts away every time they pestered him. He refocused on his drink. He located the mugs—what was Zack currently up to? Would he stick to his recovery plan?—he looked for sugar—the coffee Zack made him tasted different but still really good… maybe better—he needed a spoon. He saw some hot chocolate—Zack. He huffed. Irritation swelled. Was he really a one-track record? Why was there nothing else on his mind?

A crush—no! It was just… worry. Concern. Concerned people didn't think about kisses though, Cloud berated himself. There was something nice about being close to Zack. It was just the intimacy and close bond—a bond that was brought on out of necessity. Cloud was a _convenience_. That reminder calmed his racing thoughts.

He returned to the living room, mug in hand and—his mouth fell open. He gawked. Roxas sat on the lounge, Cloud’s phone to his ear. He chatted amicably. "Yeah, that would totally be a cool idea—” Roxas grinned at Cloud. “Oh, I gotta stop you there, Cloud’s here now———yeah, smells like coffee.” Roxas laughed. “Total addict, I know———I'll pass you over———yeah, it was nice chatting to you too. Bye, Zack." Roxas strode over, shoved Cloud's cell against his chest, and grinned. Softly, he said, "You can thank me later."

He left and Cloud fumbled with his phone while he tried not to spill his coffee. He struggled to get the device up to his ear. "H- _hello?"_ he croaked, his throat thick with saliva and acrid coffee on his tongue.

_"Buddy! It's so good to hear from you. I've really missed you. What're you been up to? How's your family? Your brother sounds nice. How are you? Did you know they are serving pudding now? I don’t know if I need to thank Francis for that or the hospital kitchen staff—"_

Zack's enthusiasm hit Cloud square in the chest. He stumbled over to the lounge and sat down even while Zack _kept_ talking a mile a minute about all sorts of things that had happened at the hospital. 

Cloud couldn’t stop his smile. It had only been about two weeks but he could already feel how much he’d missed Zack—how nice it was to speak with him again. Zack was like a warm and favorite blanket that Cloud had misplaced but found again. 

_“But Bernie said that it’s hospital policy so I’m not allowed to use the sheets like that anymore. But how are you?”_ Zack stressed and finally fell silent.

Cloud chuckled. “Oh, I’m allowed to talk now?”

Zack’s robust laugh rang through the line. _“Yeah. Sorry. Got a bit carried away.”_

Cloud’s breath came easier. He felt lighter, and his cheeks still strained with how hard he smiled. “You’re alright. I’m good. I’ve been sleeping lots and resting.”

_“I’m so happy to hear that. You deserve a break and some R and R. Yanno, I worry about you.”_

Cloud breathed deep and felt oddly nourished. "You don't need to,” he said softly.

_"But I do. I still think I stressed you out too much. Vicarious trauma, Beccy in my group always says. I don't want to be doing that stuff to you or my folks or friends."_

"You're not doing anything to me. It's okay." A warm flutter ruffled through Cloud’s chest over Zack’s interest in his welfare. “What group are you in?"

 _"Oh—"_ Barking echoed down the hall and rapidly got louder. _“Hey! Are those your dogs?”_ Zack sounded breathless.

“Yeah. The noisy one’s Chance.” The black german shepherd raced through the doorway, and Nanaki brought up the rear. Their toes clipped against the wooden floorboards. Cloud stood up so the dogs wouldn’t bowl him over as they bounded and leaped onto the lounge.

“Shh,” he hissed at the dogs. Nanaki settled down, but Chance still leaped around.

Zack’s laugh sounded through the line. _“Man, I miss dogs. I wish we could video call so I could see them.”_

“I can take photos and show them to you when I get back.”

_“Yeah, please do that!”_

“Chance! Nanaki,” Roxas screamed. The dogs got back up and raced out into the hall. Roxas appeared, two leashes in his hands. “Sorry. Gonna take them out. Have fun,” he said with a tease in his voice. He closed the door to the living room and Cloud had privacy.

“Sorry. Roxas is taking them for a walk, that’s why they got so excited.” Cloud sat back down and put his mug on the coffee table.

_“So you get some peace and quiet now.”_

“Yeah, for a little while. How have you been? You mentioned a group.”

_“Yeah. It's an amputee group. There's people from all kinds of walks of life. We talk about what it's like to get on with our residual limbs. Really interesting to hear everyone's stories. They're all so different."_

Cloud breathed with greater ease. It sounded like there was acceptance there. It felt monumental. "That's so good to hear. What else are you doing?"

"Oh _, you know… lying in hospital.”_ Zack sounded highly amused. 

Cloud smiled and teasingly said, "Should you be lying down so much?"

Zack's low chuckle shot a shiver down Cloud's spine. 

_"I deserve a break from all the physical therapy I'm doing, thank you very much, Nanny Cloud."_

Cloud understood the jest but he still felt self-conscious. Was he pushing too much? He muttered a, “Sorry.”

Zack chuckled low and slow. _"Don’t say sorry. I like you asking me things. Almost sounds like you're worried about me."_

The rumble in Zack’s voice and that infernal chuckle… if that rusty, deep laugh continued like that… Cloud swallowed the lump in his throat. “Of course I’m worried. You seem to fall apart when I’m not there.” 

The laugh that rang through the line lit a blaze of heat up Cloud’s neck and into his cheeks.

_“Maybe you should be around more often then. Stop you worrying about me, hmm?”_

Cloud bent forward, elbow on his knee. He buried his face in his hand. Was Zack flirting with him? Was it just teasing? Was he reading too much into everything? Probably. 

_“Are you still there?”_ The amusement was no longer present in Zack’s voice.

“Yeah.” He breathed down the rush. "I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I’m… not good with staying in touch.”

With a serious note to Zack’s voice, he said, _“I really appreciate the call. I hope you’re not worrying about me too much. I’m doing okay. I’ve got lots of people to help me. It’s not all on you, Cloud. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that.”_

“Oh, no. No, you haven’t. It’s okay,” Cloud hastily responded and lifted his head out of his hand.

 _“Okay. Good.”_ The smile sat in Zack’s voice. _“I really miss having you around though. I’m keeping busy, but even then I still miss you coming over and keeping me company. You’re always such good company.”_

Cloud re-buried his face in his hand. He felt completely hot all over. He had missed Zack so much. His animated, lively, and hectic way with words: his frankness, his warmth, his affection—even if it was born out of a need to have someone convenient around to keep him entertained—filled Cloud with incredible warmth and a feeling of being home. Being in the presence of someone who really valued him. It felt so different to being around Sephiroth. That thought made Cloud sit up. He cleared his head and his throat. “Tell me about all the things you've been doing."

That started them both off on a two-hour conversation with Zack filling Cloud in on how he’d wholeheartedly thrown himself into his recovery process; all the groups he’d attended—from art and music, which let him take his mind off things, to the amputee groups, which he discussed in more detail. Zack told Cloud about the people in his group—their life experiences. He explained to Cloud that he learned about how everyone had their own unique story and path to recovery. 

Zack talked about his appointments with his psychologist and cited statistics he had been told in regards to PTSD recovery rates. Cloud felt indescribably happy to hear Zack openly discuss his mental health issues in a positive and hopeful lilt. He smiled brightly as Zack told him that he felt better, less jumpy, less mad, and less frustrated.

Cloud kept all the ‘I told you sos’ to himself while he sipped on his long-gone-cold coffee.

Roxas came back with the dogs long before Cloud finished his conversation with Zack. The big grin and wag of Roxas’ eyebrows which he threw in Cloud’s direction made Cloud take himself upstairs to his bedroom, where he sprawled on his bed with a panting Nanaki at his side and Zack in his ear. He felt at complete ease. Life almost felt perfect and unblemished. 

His smile slipped away though once Zack spoke candidly about his struggles when it came to the physical tasks of his recovery. The challenges, the differences, the things he’d always taken for granted.

Zack laughed in a pained sort of way. _"I feel stronger though. Even though everything hurts in weird ways I can feel things getting better. But boy… it's so tough. I can't even begin to describe how much everything fucking sucks. How much it hurts. Left and right side. It's like Brad loves torturing me. I swear he gets a sick smile on his face watching me struggle. He always tells me how much he loves his job. Pretends it’s ‘cause he can see people like me get better. He just likes inflicting pain though. That’s the real truth."_

Cloud's heart went out to Zack as he listened. "Sounds like you're doing great though."

 _"Yeah. Doing much better than before."_ Zack laughed. _"So much better. Just being up and moving and_ doing _things is so good for my mental health, Cloud. It's just incredible. It sucks what happened to me—my body, but it's like I can see the sky again and see the sun that's still shining while the storm's blowing."_

A tightness sat in his chest and moisture pricked his eyes. Cloud smiled. "That's so great to hear."

 _"I even had a shave."_ Zack chuckled.

"Oh, you did? No longer a grizzly man, huh?"

 _"Nope. Looking after myself again. I_ might _even look respectable the next time you see me.”_

“Wouldn’t that be amazing.”

They both chuckled.

 _“I’ve really missed hearing your voice,”_ Zack murmured.

The tightness in his chest grew. It almost suffocated. “Yeah. It’s good to catch up,” he said ever so weakly.

Silence reigned between them. Cloud drew at blanks for what else to say. He felt like he should say more. Say something. Ask something.

 _“Ha—”,_ “Wh—” They both spoke up at the same time. They chuckled.

_"You go,” _Zack offered.__

____

"How's your leg, in general?"

____

_"Thankfully healing. No complications. Makes for a weird change for once."_ Zack laughed. _"I get weird sensations and pains sometimes. Feels like my leg's still there but just really small and shrunken. Hard to describe. Like, all my neural pathways are still set up to do whatever I could do with my leg. If I concentrate hard I feel like I can still move my toes. It’s so weird. My whole body has to rewire itself. Brad says my brain's also rewiring itself and that can take longer than the body, so I might still feel stuff—or think I feel stuff. And my thigh’s all sore and my muscle’s really tight. I see a physio for that. Everyone tells me my body’s going through an adjustment period. It’s like breaking in a new shoe. Gonna be stiff and uncomfortable at first, but then you break it in and it’s okay and feels comfortable. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable again though. But the support group’s run by the amputees so there’s decades of experience of living with limb loss, and they all say it’s okay.”_ Zack sighed.

____

Cloud would have loved to hold Zack’s hand at that moment. “It’s so good to hear you talking like this.”

____

_“Like what?” ___

______ _ _

“Accepting of your situation.”

______ _ _

A joyless laugh rang through the line. _“Yeah. No use fighting it. I’m looking forward to getting my final operation so I can get started on using the prosthetic. I’m also really nervous about it though. I kind of feel that maybe walking around without a leg might be easier—just using the crutches, yanno? I’m getting used to that. But then I’m gonna get my leg and that’s when the_ actual _hard work will start because then I’ll actually have to learn how to walk again, but with practically a dead-weight attached to me—though I’ve been told the micro-compressor knee thingo helps a lot with natural movement. It’s just a different way of doing things. Sorry if I’m babbling. There’s a lot been going on. Hope I’m not bringing the mood down.”_

______ _ _

Cloud hummed and shook his head. “No. This is such a huge deal. It’s good for you to think about these things and to hear what you’re thinking about and going through. Better than keeping it inside, hey?” He huffed out a small laugh.

______ _ _

_“Yeah. I’ve been dying to talk to you.”_

______ _ _

Cloud hummed and pressed the phone closer to himself. What he would have given for a hug. He cleared his throat. “Your prosthetic…”

______ _ _

_“Yeah?”_

______ _ _

“You probably could just not use it if you feel it’s easier to go without it.”

______ _ _

_“Nah, man. I need to get really good with it if I wanna avoid a desk job for the rest of my life.”_

______ _ _

“Oh. Yeah. Makes sense,” Cloud muttered. Reality hit him as he remembered Zack’s end goal.

______ _ _

_“But hey. Look. If toddlers can do it, so can I, right?"_ Zack laughed.

______ _ _

“Of course you can. Toddlers have nothing on you.”

______ _ _

Zack laughed louder before his voice dropped down, _“God, I miss you.”_

______ _ _

A shiver ran down Cloud’s spine.

______ _ _

_“Cloud! Roxas! Dinner!”_ came Xion’s call from down the hall.

______ _ _

Cloud looked at the time. He did a double-take. “Oh, damn. It’s dinner time. I’ve got to go.”

______ _ _

_“What’re you having?”_ Zack asked.

______ _ _

“I think it’s steak and salad?”

______ _ _

Zack moaned. _“What I wouldn’t give for a juicy steak or rack of ribs.”_

______ _ _

“At least you have pudding.”

______ _ _

Zack laughed. _“Yeah, at least I have that—hey…. Thanks for listening to me ramble on for so long. I really appreciate it.”_

______ _ _

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to hear you are doing so well. I know it’s tough, but if you put in the effort you’ll get out of there in no time at all.”

______ _ _

Zack hummed. _“I’m gonna get assessed on my progress in two weeks’ time and then hopefully I’ll get the all clear to get the operation finalized. But as it stands…. Or I don’t,”_ he chuckled, _“I’m probably gonna be here for two more months—end of October—_ if _I don’t get moved before then. Have you heard anything about that yet?”_

______ _ _

“No. Um… Sephiroth came over and handed the report to mom.

______ _ _

_"Oh… did… did he stay long?"_

______ _ _

"A day."

______ _ _

Zack hummed with something uncomfortable in his voice. “ _Do you know what the report says?”_

______ _ _

"Oh! He didn't stay that long because of the report. He was over visiting the family."

______ _ _

Zack chuckled, sounding a little relieved, but… also _not?_ _"So, any idea what the verdict might be?"_

______ _ _

“No. But I’ll talk to mom tonight.”

______ _ _

_“Thank you.”_

______ _ _

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

______ _ _

_“Nah, thank you. I believe in the power of Cloud, and your mom,”_ Zack snickered.

______ _ _

They wished each other goodnight. Cloud promised to call more often over the week and a bit remaining of his time at his parents' place, and with that headed downstairs, to be greeted by Roxas and Xion’s massive grins and severe teases over the time Cloud had spent on the phone.

______ _ _

It was annoying and he scowled at his brother and sister-in-law, but inside he was all smiles as he joined the dinner table for their evening meal. 

______ _ _

There was a lot of chatter around work-related things. Cloud tuned out and replayed the words Zack had shared with him. Affectionate words. Words of longing. Maybe he projected. Maybe Zack didn’t mean anything by them. Or if he did maybe it was only because of circumstance and because Cloud was a _convenience._

______ _ _

He couldn’t help but return to that thought. He knew why though—it kept him safe from getting hurt. Safe from dreadful wishes and wants. Though he still wished to see Zack again, and soon. To have arms around him. To feel wanted. Zack made him feel bright and light. Zack caused a buzz and flutter in his innards. Zack made him wish for kisses and warm embraces… and not just to receive, but also to give. Zack made him feel submerged in a bath of deep-seated happiness, one that left him awash with an unshakable soft glow.

______ _ _

Maybe Cloud had to admit that he felt something for Zack. Something beyond friendship. Something beyond caring for him simply because of their circumstances. Maybe he could let himself feel things… just a little bit, before the dream ended and Zack would leave the hospital for good.

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! So glad to be back! So excited to bring you all more chapters!
> 
> I actually wrote an alternate scene between Cloud and Sephiroth that is hardcore NSFW. They never got to do anything in the past and I felt bad for Cloud and they have chemistry so I wrote something for the hell of it. You can read it over on a hidden page on [My Tumblr](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/Kintsukuroi-ch12-sefikura-room).
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated. I hope you have all been well. Catch ya in a fortnight!


	13. Forget-me-not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud returns from his vacation just in time to celebrate a special day with Zack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This chapter is up early because tomorrow I need to do last-minute holiday shopping 🤭😓 Thank you all for the warm welcome back a fortnight ago. I’ve diligently been going through the chapters with my lovely, diligent, and generous-with-their-time beta, prurient_curiosity. This is a long chapter (nearly 20k) with a lot going on. Maybe give yourself an afternoon off for it 😅
> 
> Chapter warnings for suicidal ideation and smoldering slow-burn fluff.
> 
> Also - if you are reading this on mobile please know there is fanart embedded in the text which will not display properly - unless you view as desktop. There's also a link to the artwork in the end notes.

Cloud carried a crate filled with different sized flower bouquets and small potted succulents into the hospital. Tifa had assigned him this one job and had given him the rest of the day off. He had cocked an eyebrow and gotten instantly wary but also hadn’t said anything because he had every intention to visit Zack. The fact that he’d be able to spend all day with him started his heart into a strong rhythm and swirled the butterflies in his stomach. He hoped he wouldn’t do something stupid that would lead to him regretting all his free time today.

He’d called Zack several more times since they first spoke. He had listened to talk about the amputee support group, and how Zack had picked up the guitar again in music therapy. Zack had chatted excitedly about Cloud's return and all the things he’d show him when they got to hang out again.

Having someone look _forward_ to seeing him was strange. Looking forward to seeing someone was even stranger. He couldn't fathom how Zack was able to express such enthusiasm over his return. 

He found it hard to sit still. He kept feeling his pulse race in all different parts of his body. He had a million conflicted thoughts and emotions about the matter of _Sergeant_ Zack Fair. Thoughts which had never had a chance to settle down ever since he started his phone calls to Zack. His brother and sister-in-law had consistently and mercilessly teased him. His mother’s inability to make favorable predictions about the investigation also bothered him. But most annoying of all were the words Sephiroth had left him with.

They rang so loud in Cloud’s head as he tried to sleep. _Re-evaluate your intentions._ He didn’t _have any_ intentions. These fond feelings would pass and Zack would forget about him once he was back out in the real world. That was Cloud’s reality. Zack _would_ leave and someone like that would never care about someone like him under normal circumstances.

That was the only truth that mattered and it stirred a sour queasiness inside when he thought about it. Was it wrong to hope Zack _wouldn't_ go back to the military? _Wished_ he couldn't?

That line of thinking brought up angry resentful feelings directed at Sephiroth. Cloud wasn't spiteful. He didn't care what Zack got up to once he left. It wouldn't concern him. Cloud was just doing his job: delivering flowers. 

Like he was doing right now. 

He took the crate of flowers up to the residential wing and steeled his heart with every step. He wanted to see Zack again. He didn’t want to care. He shouldn’t look forward to it as much as he was. He breathed it all out and down and pushed it away. But the buzz and excitement grew grander as he neared. He fought harder against the stupid happiness. He was almost at Zack’s corridor when he got stopped by a shout of, “Hold on a minute. I need to check your I.D.”

Cloud stopped and turned—he froze. His throat constricted. All joy vacated his body as he looked at the man who was sickeningly familiar. There was no doubt about it, from his clean-pressed uniform, wide stance, beady eyes, grating smirk, and crooked nose—even though the shoulder marks now indicated the guy had been promoted to Private First Class Cocky Asshole, it was still the _same_ Private Cocky Asshole who had terrorized Cloud in basic training: Lionel-fucking-Jensen.

Cloud couldn’t and didn’t bother to try to contain his disdain in the way his lip curled and his jaw clenched. With a narrowed gaze he wryly responded, “Cloud Strife,” like he pompous shit-stirrer didn’t already know. The prick knew _exactly_ who Cloud was. Cloud had inadvertently made sure that he’d never be forgotten.

“I.D please,” the asshole Private First Class pressed on and his lip twitched with sheer antagonism. 

Cloud shifted the crate of plants and reached for his wallet in his back pocket. He had no intention of getting into a conversation or argument. He produced his license, withstood the lingering derisive judgment which was conveyed in a simple look, and snatched his license back once it had been thoroughly (and pointlessly) examined. 

“It checks out, just like you.”

Cloud rolled his eyes but ignored Jensen as he went on his way. He _hated_ having to come here. Be here. Maybe it had all been a mistake. Becoming friends had been a mistake. He reached Zack's room and paused to try and recenter himself. His stomach churned. Eager anticipation, worrying dread; it all jumbled together and became indistinguishable from one another. What if he was kidding himself and actually really—he swallowed, knocked, and let himself in.

"Cloud! Buddy!" Zack yelled and laughed. 

The enthusiasm and warmth smashed into Cloud. The lump in his throat choked him. He looked at Zack— _stared._ He sat on his bed, a picture of perfect health. That clean-shaven face with the slightest hint of stubble, that chiseled jaw, those soft eyes— _that smile!_ Something about the color of Zack’s shirt—or maybe it was the fact that it was a button-down and not just a tee?—Cloud didn’t know what exactly it was but something looked completely different. Had Zack always been so… _ridiculously_ _handsome?_

_Shit._

Cloud blinked rapidly, conscious of how he stared. 

Zack laughed some more—it filled the whole room and Cloud’s chest cavity. 

“Quit starin’ and come over here already!” Zack motioned with his head.

Cloud moved toward the bed. He finally noticed the bundle of brown and white lying in Zack’s lap. The dog lifted its head. 

“This is Digs! Isn’t she adorable? And this is Debby, her handler!” Zack waved his arm toward the chair at the foot of the bed where a kind-faced, middle-aged woman sat with a warm smile. “Digs loves cheese and her favorite chew-toy is this carrot squeaker.” Zack held up a plastic toy and squeezed it. The loud high-pitched note made Digs bark and wag her tail. Zack laughed and played with the toy and the dog.

The elation on Zack's face and the overjoyed lilt to his voice made all the bad thoughts and feelings from before completely evaporate. Tears stung and pricked Cloud’s eyes. He wiped at his face.

“Come sit down. I want you to meet her!” Zack enthused. Utter happiness radiated out of every pore and he smiled brighter than the sun. Zack laughed so loud and deep; it rumbled straight into Cloud’s body.

He inhaled the man’s mirth and put the crate down before he came over. Zack pushed away the tray table to make room for Cloud.

He sat down and patted the beagle and spoke with Debby while the bundle of adorableness snuffled and bounded over his and Zack’s laps. Cloud was almost able to forget that his heart raced and his palms were clammy. He could _just about_ tune out how close he sat to Zack. Had he sat this close? Had Zack moved? Had they _both_ moved because of the way Digs jumped over them? 

His arm and hip and thigh pressed against Zack’s. Cloud couldn’t ignore it. He was painfully aware of every accidental and purposeful touch: Zack’s lean into him, the warm hand on his lap, and the gentle slap Zack left on his back. Everything sent tingles down Cloud’s spine. 

His intense and heated reactions to his friend’s touches made him incredibly self-conscious. The whole situation grew worse when Digs and her handler left with a soft click of the door. They were left alone and there was absolutely nothing to distract Cloud from Zack’s handsome visage. He grew more handsome as his smile grew bigger and radiant. Zack reached for Cloud and hooked an elbow around his neck. Zack pulled Cloud into a firm hug.

It was the same, and yet completely alien to Cloud. The hugs that had been initiated through howling monkey sounds had at first been uncomfortable, then with time had turned pleasant, and now the hugs were uncomfortable because of how pleasant it felt to be in Zack’s arms again.

Cloud tensed up. His senses overflowed with Zack’s warm, masculine musk. He detected a hint of mint. The arms held him so tight. Zack pressed his cheek to Cloud’s and hummed even as he squeezed Cloud tighter. 

“God, it’s so good to have you back,” Zack murmured.

Zack’s affection overrode Cloud’s nerves. He melted into Zack and squeezed the tension he held in his body into Zack. The firm hold around him felt stronger than a few weeks prior. Zack’s body felt different—filled out, meatier—probably from nutrition and movement. Perhaps that was another thing that made Zack so… different to look at.

Zack’s weight shifted and he leaned deeper against Cloud. His nose burrowed into the crook of Cloud’s neck and the embrace intensified.

Cloud held on tight. He dug his fingertips into the fabric of Zack’s shirt which felt almost like satin. The hairs on his skin prickled as Zack’s warm breath hit the nape of his neck.

“Thank you,” Zack softly rumbled in a husky note against Cloud’s skin.

Discomfort flared up in Cloud. What was he doing? What was Zack doing? He’d feel the way Cloud’s heart raced. Zack would feel the sweat soaking into his button-down shirt if Cloud kept holding on. He pulled away and Zack’s hands slid off him easily enough, leaving no trace of how perfectly they had just fit together. Cloud inhaled deeply and said, "For what?"

Fresh-faced joy made Zack shine. His cheeks glowed pink with vibrancy and life. "The dog visit. It was you, wasn't it?"

Cloud cast his eyes onto the ground and made some small noises as he was embarrassed over having been caught out. Zack’s ecstatic excitement whenever Cloud's dogs had been loud through the phone line had given Cloud the spurt of motivation to revisit the therapy dog idea.

Zack pulled him into an even tighter embrace, which set Cloud's heart off like a shot. "Thank you _so_ much. This is the best birthday present."

Cloud's mind ground to a halt. He stiffened in Zack’s embrace. "Birthday? Who's birthday?"

"Mine, of course." Zack laughed and released Cloud. 

Slack-jawed, Cloud stared. _Of course_. He felt so dumb. "W-when is it? _"_

"Today.”

Of course, he couldn’t have known but he still felt incredibly embarrassed. "Shit… is it?"

Zack chuckled and nodded.

Cloud felt mortified. "Is that why… you look so nice and… all those plants…" He looked over to the copious amount of flowers Aerith had given him to bring along.

Zack’s smile slowly spread. “You think I look nice?”

“Ah… I…” _Shit._ Had he said that? His cheeks burned. “Well, I’ve never seen you wear a button-down shirt. And your hair… you put it in a ponytail.”

Zack laughed. “Please. It’s a wolf’s tail. Much sexier, yeah?” He cocked his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk.

Cloud couldn’t find words to answer. They felt stuck in his throat. The thought of Zack being… _sexy_ —he gulped. “Seriously? It’s your birthday?”

Zack laughed some more. "Aerith didn't tell you when you went to pick up the flowers? You got them from her, right?" He glanced over at where Cloud had put them down. “That box and ribbon look like her supplies.”

“Yeah, I got them from her. But she… didn’t say…” Cloud groaned. "Well… she said she'd see me later today at a party, but…" Could he feel any dumber? All he'd thought about was seeing Zack again today and how frightened and eager he felt around that prospect. Maybe someone had said something to him but he hadn't heard? A flash of anger rushed through him. "Why didn't you tell me? I spoke to you _three_ days ago."

"I didn't want to pressure you into feeling like you had to come back in time for it. I know you weren’t really sure what day you’d be back by. It worked out fine anyway," Zack delivered with a good-natured smile.

Holding on to the anger when faced with that smile proved a struggle. "If I had known I'd have… I could have…” He felt rotten for having brought nothing and for looking so shabby in his faded jeans and a plain tee. “I'm sorry I didn't get you anything."

Zack waved and dismissed the concern. He scooched closer. Their legs pressed together. He slipped his hand in Cloud’s, interlaced their fingers, and drew Cloud’s hand and arm toward his chest. Zack held him firm and placed his other hand on top of their existing handhold. "It's okay. This is the _best_ gift."

Warmth spread from Cloud's held hand all the way up his arm and met with the bloom of tingling heat in his chest. "What is?" he croaked, fearing the answer.

_"Y’know."_ Zack said with a husky tremble and shrugged one shoulder. A soft smile played on his lips and crinkled one side of his mouth. His chest rose and fell steeply and his eyes stayed half-lidded. The warm hold on Cloud’s hand shifted and Zack held him a little tighter but without causing pain. The hold felt so perfect and secure and reassuring. 

Cloud’s breath caught in his chest. Zack sounded so… How could one word feel so _heavy?_ He blinked and willed himself to breathe again. He was being dumb. No way did Zack… "The dog," he muttered as his brain kicked back into gear.

The delicate smile on Zack's face broke into a tremendous grin. He gently, yet quickly, placed Cloud’s hand down, and laughingly said, "I can't thank you enough.” 

"But… it's just a dog. I…" 

Zack shook his head, clapped his hand against Cloud’s back, and rubbed him with energy. “It means the world to me." His smile intensified. 

All of Cloud's thoughts went away. Zack was happy. That's what mattered. Cloud took a small, measured breath and smiled. "Happy birthday," he said, quietly.

"Thanks," Zack chuckled and shuffled a little closer. His hand slid up to Cloud’s shoulder and he gripped him lightly. "Um… Cloud…"

"Yeah?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. The nervousness refused to leave him over how Zack behaved and acted and was. This is how Zack had always been though—touchy-feely, affectionate with his words—but everything felt _heightened_ now. There was a weight to everything Zack said, or did, or the way he looked at him. But that was just Zack. It’s like… Cloud’s perception had shifted _._ It’s like a veil had suddenly lifted. He could see clearer now—his bodily reactions… the meaning of it all. Nothing was different but everything had changed. He was attracted to Zack Fair. _Sergeant_ Zack Fair. It was an utterly mortifying realization to have. This was beyond a crush. This was—

A knock at the door made both men turn to face it. Cloud straightened. Zack’s hand dropped off his shoulder. A big, colorful bunch of balloons floated into the room and Zack's mother appeared after them.

"Happy birthday, baby," she strode over to the bed and hugged him. Zack's father came in as well, as did a string of people Cloud, for the most part, didn't recognize. 

He got up and moved away to the window as friends and family filled the room. The distance allowed him some time to cool off. It had just been the close proximity to Zack that had made him… all nervous. It was just the shock of Zack’s _wellness_ that… had thrown him. He breathed out the flurry of feelings and paid attention to the parade of guests that entered and mingled around the room.

He caught Zack’s gaze through the gathering crowd and noted the frown etched on Zack’s brow. It melted with a smile once he made eye contact with Cloud. In an attempt to reassure Zack, Cloud smiled back. He was here and would stay. He wanted to celebrate with Zack, even if that meant being a ghost. And as everything stood… it was probably better for his heart and nerves if he remained in the shadows.

It was an easy enough task to achieve. All focus was on Zack. Cloud wondered how he was coped with the attention and being seen with only one leg: Zack sat on the bed with the rolled-up pants leg on the left and the white cotton bandage and compression sock at the end of the limb poking out. Cloud heard people comment on it as they entered and saw Zack with his dangled leg and missing one. A lot of them hadn’t seen him post-op. Had, apparently, not seen him at all since before everything. Cloud could only imagine how tough that must be for everyone involved.

Zack wore his mask. He cracked jokes. He diverted attention—turned the conversation back onto his friends and colleagues, everyone of which he pulled into tight hugs. Some even exchanged kisses on cheeks with Zack. 

Cloud felt woefully left out. That thought affronted him.

“Hey, if it isn’t the one and only Cloud! It’s awesome to see you again.”

Cloud shifted his gaze off Zack and onto the man who stood opposite of him. “Hi. Kunsel, right?”

“Yep.” He grinned.

Cloud smiled to be polite.

“It's so good to see you at the party.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t know today was a party.“

“Oh. He sprung it on you?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

Kunsel chuckled. “Would you have come even if you knew?”

“Yeah, of course. I could have picked a better wardrobe.” He looked down at himself. Everyone else looked far smarter than him.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Zack doesn't care what you wear. Will you stay?”

“Uh…” With the choice laid out before him—for the briefest of moments—Cloud did want to leave. It was too crowded. It wasn’t anything like Cloud had imagined today to be like. But… “Yeah. I guess I will.”

“Cool. Good. You should! Flo’s put on an amazing spread. All of Zack's favorite things: burgers, twizzlers, hot chips. There's a chocolate fountain too. And y'know, then there's normal food for grown-ups like us to eat too,” Kunsel laughed.

Cloud chuckled. “Sounds good.”

“It will be. I'd love to talk to you some more but I’ve got to go up to the roof and help Flo do some last-minute set-up. If you want a break from all this—” Kunsel looked over at the crowd. The hospital room wasn’t made for so many people in one spot. “You could come up and help.”

“Do you need a hand?”

“Not really, but if you’d like a break…” 

Cloud looked at Zack. “No. It’s alright. I’m fine here.” He thought if he left without an explanation Zack might freak out.

“Sure, suit yourself. I’ll come back when we’re ready to move upstairs.” Kunsel departed and Cloud was left alone again to watch and observe the circus all around him. 

Despite Kunsel’s supportive words, Cloud still felt woefully underdressed. While he didn’t care what he looked like on most days of the week he couldn’t avoid the fact that today was _special_. This was the first time he met so many people who were important enough to Zack to have come all this way to see him.

_Whatever_. He told himself it didn’t matter.

It was only a little while longer before Kunsel returned. The room full of people got ushered out and invited to the roof to get the party underway.

Zack told everyone that he’d see them up on the roof and to not wait up for him.

Kunsel hung back. “Hey man, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Zack laughed. “Just need to get the bandage checked before I head up. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“You know that’s impossible.”

They grinned at each other.

“Where’s your wife? I miss that girl,” Zack said.

“At home, looking after the kids. She doesn't trust my ma to do it right.”

Zack blew a raspberry. “Why didn’t you bring the tykes along then?”

“Same reason Barret didn’t bring Marlene. It’s a school night and none of us live around here.”

“School-shmuel. I miss your rugrats.”

“And they miss you. Get better soon so you can come see them.”

“Not like I’m not trying.”

Kunsel smiled softer than before. “I know, buddy. You’re doing really well.”

Zack grinned and gave Kunsel a thumbs up. “Lemme talk to Cissnei later today, okay? I gotta tell her to quit worrying. Your ma raised you and you’re one of the finest men I know.”

Kunsel laughed. “I’m glad one of you has a high opinion of me. Don’t keep the party guests waiting for too long.”

“No worries. I’ll definitely see you up there before the cake comes out.”

“A’right.” Kunsel looked at Cloud with a smile. “You coming?”

Uncomfortable over being caught out, Cloud stepped away from the window where he'd been glued to for the past twenty minutes and dragged his feet toward the door.

“Ah, no. Cloud, can you stay? I gotta run something by you, real quick.”

Zack’s words halted Cloud. Kunsel smiled at them and left with a, “See you up there.”

“Yeah?” Cloud turned toward Zack once the coast was clear.

“Ah…" Zack rubbed at his neck and smiled. "It's nothing. I just didn’t want you to go.”

It disconcerted Cloud how much he enjoyed hearing that. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Zack. He hoped his stomach wouldn’t have to drop quite so far. 

Cloud's attention moved to Zack's limbs. “How’re you going with everything? With people seeing you, I mean.” 

“Yeah, okay, I guess.” Zack laughed, yet his head and shoulders drooped and he rubbed at his thigh. "It had to happen eventually. Just rip the band-aid off, right?"

"Right," he agreed tentatively, unsure how happy or _un_ happy Zack really was about the whole birthday party thing.

Zack cleared his throat. “Can you grab me my crutches? They got moved.”

“Oh.” Cloud looked where Zack pointed and fetched them. “Here.” He handed them to Zack. “They look pretty cool,” he commented of the lightweight aluminum forearm mobility aids.

“Yeah. They’re better than the big, bulky wooden ones.” Zack positioned them against his forearms, gripped the handholds, and stood up with a slight grunt. "Made to be durable and comfortable for prolonged use,” he cited expertly and flashed Cloud a grin before he stiffly moved past Cloud.

Cloud stepped back to give Zack space and he stared… up… and up. A flush flashed through his body. Frozen in place, he watched Zack labor over to the door, but the man stopped mid-way.

“Are you coming?” he shot over his shoulder.

The words snapped Cloud out of his numb stare. He shook the shock out of his head and followed with a rough sounding, “Yeah.”

Zack awkwardly maneuvered his mobility aids and turned around to face Cloud, which stopped Cloud in his tracks and made the heat rise to his cheeks all the hotter.

With a huff of amusement, Zack said, “What’s throwing you off?”

Cloud looked the other man over; his vibrant, light-blue button-down dress shirt clung to broad shoulders and was loosely tucked into dark-wash jeans. Seeing Zack stand with one leg and his left leg _missing_ was… confronting. It didn’t detract from the fact that… even though Zack stooped… he was still—“You’re really tall.” His throat felt parched.

Zack’s good-natured smile dropped and confusion furrowed his brow. A moment later he threw his head back in laughter. “I am. C’mere,” he tilted his head and gestured for Cloud to step closer.

Flutters ruffled in his stomach and spread heat through his limbs. His cheeks felt like blazing infernos. An agitated electrical buzz caused a tingle in his fingers as he shuffled up to Zack, who stood a fraction straighter and looked down at him. 

Cloud craned his neck and stared up. He took a hard swallow. He came up to abut Zack’s shoulders… and that was with Zack still stooped. 

Zack smiled down softly. “Guess I forgot that you haven’t seen me out of bed until now, huh.” Amusement lit his voice.

“I… I know your parents are tall, but… I… never thought about it. Never noticed.” And that went for many other things as well, he berated himself. He felt dumb. How could he never have noticed? They had been in bed together enough times. Cloud had to let go of that thought. He thought he’d combust if he got any hotter.

Zack remained all gentle smiles. “Is it a _big_ deal?” He chuckled.

Cloud’s dropped stomach would say ‘yes,’ but he said, “No. Just interesting. And don’t you dare start with the short jokes.” He reclaimed himself thanks to the slightest tinge of indignation.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” A smug smirk crossed Zack’s face and laughter rumbled out of him.

Cloud stepped away from Zack to give himself space. He corralled the look of surprise back in line to something a little more indifferent. Yet inside… his heart thundered. An image of Sephiroth flashed through his head. The man’s height had always been an incredibly attractive feature about him. Cloud had a _type_ , he acknowledged with an internal groan. He couldn’t stand how many boxes Zack ticked now that he was _aware_ of his own attraction _._ “Let’s go,” he prompted, so he could run away from his increasing list of acknowledgments. 

He exited Zack’s room and headed down the hallway to the elevators.

“Hey, wait up.”

“Your long legs can’t keep up, huh?” Cloud threw over his shoulder. 

“I’ve only got one, so gimme a break,” Zack chuckled.

Guilt smashed into Cloud and he almost ground to a halt. He turned and watched Zack approach with slow, measured movements as he placed the forearm crutches and hopped along.

Cloud’s heart crumpled. “I’m so sorry for what I just said.”

“It’s fine.” Zack reached him and overtook him. “C’mon. Who’s slow now, Mr. Two Legs.”

“I’m so, _so sorry.”_

“Don’t sweat it.”

They continued on to their destination. The aluminum crutches softly creaked and the rubber stops at the ends clicked against the carpeted and then linoleum floors. 

“You’re doing really well on those,” Cloud said quietly. “Is it getting easier?”

“Yeah. Each day I’m getting stronger and re-learning my balance.” A slight smile graced Zack’s lips even as he heaved with the strain of moving.

"That's good to hear. How many people are at this party?"

"Hmm… maybe a hundred?"

"Oh."

Zack hummed with soft amusement. "How are you with crowds?"

"Wallflower material. Maybe if I'm lucky a topiary will swallow me up?"

Zack laughed and sent beams of sunshine Cloud’s way. "I hope not. I will beat the living shit out of any bush that tries to eat you." Zack paused, lifted his right crutch, and deftly waved it around like a sword before he kept moving again.

"Whoa, I wonder what Aerith would say to you threatening vegetation,” Cloud joked.

They both laughed as they went. The stressed fluster left Cloud and he felt half-way to his usual self again.

As they got closer to the elevator Cloud noticed that Zack slowed down. He breathed heavier too. “Should I get you a wheelchair?” he wondered. The supply closet was just on the other side of the nurses station.

“No,” Zack snapped, but softened and gave Cloud a knock-off smile. “I’m okay. This is better anyway. Brad’s always telling me to do more work.”

Cloud shrugged. They went up in the elevator. The flutters inside of him started up again, especially as Zack flashed him glances and smiles.

"What?" Cloud asked as he leaned against the railing inside the elevator.

"I’ll look after you up there.”

Cloud waved it off. “Please, don’t baby me.”

Smiles burst across both their faces and yet, in a flash, Zack’s expression softened considerably.

“Hm?”

Zack shook his head as if coming out of a thought. “Nothing. You look… _different_ —well-rested. Or maybe it’s just the angle I’m at." He tittered and winked.

“I thought you weren’t going to do short jokes.” Cloud folded his arms across his chest and cocked a brow in challenge. He enjoyed the distraction that their banter presented.

“Oh no, this isn’t a short joke. It’s a tall one,” Zack smirked. 

Cloud rolled his eyes. “They should’ve cut your other leg off too.” He slapped his hand over his mouth. With horror, he stared at Zack, and muttered through his hand, “N-no. I di-didn’t mean for that… to come out.” His hand dropped away. “I’m sorry.”

Zack stared. His mouth hung open. Cloud stared back, mortified. Zack burst out laughing even as the elevator chimed. Zack wiped at his eyes and hobbled out, saying, as he passed, “You’ve got such a mouth on you.”

“I’m really sorry,” Cloud followed, panicked, and mentally kicked himself. Sure, he wanted to avoid _thinking_ about certain things but… _shit!_ Why did he _say_ things like what he’d just let slip?

Zack turned around, looked down, and still wore the biggest smile. “It’s fine. It was funny. I’ve gotta give you that.”

Cloud still regretted it. “No. I’m sorry.”

Zack leaned heavily on his left side and shook his right arm out of the crutch. “Can you hold this for me?”

“Sure.” Cloud took the item, eager to do whatever it took to show Zack how sorry he was.

Zack placed his right hand on the top of Cloud’s head. “I promise I won’t lord my height over you.”

Cloud _tried_ to keep it inside. He really tried but… “Don’t make me take the other crutch awa— _fuck_. I’m sorry. I’ll just…” he looked around the empty hallway, “see myself out.”

Zack laughed all the louder. “No. Stay with me. Don’t ever change. You’re…” his focus darted across Cloud’s face and his smile grew bigger, “perfect.” His hand slipped from the top of Cloud’s head to his cheek. Zack cupped and gently stroked Cloud with his thumb.

Cloud froze. He felt hot and cold all over. Zack’s touch felt so soft, his fingers a little rough. Cloud screamed at himself that he was reading too much into _everything_. Zack was just… _Zack_. Cloud was making everything awkward by staring dumbly. He knew because Zack’s beautiful smile slipped away and his thumb stopped its dance across Cloud’s skin, though the hand remained pressed to his face.

Cloud cleared his throat and stepped back, out of the searing touch that felt like it left a brand on his cheek. He tried to look up, but couldn’t. He focused on the object in his hands. “What do you need me to do with your crutch?” He raised the item between them, to draw attention to it and away from… whatever was happening.

Zack slowly dropped his hand back down to his side and let out a minute sigh. The smile returned to his face, but not as soft or as deep. “Just hold on to it. Pop it down somewhere. I won’t be needing it.”

Cloud furrowed his brows with concern. It didn’t sound like a good idea, but he had messed up so much today that he didn’t want to keep insulting Zack. Yet… he still needed to ask… “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he said with confidence. “I don’t need two, but I definitely need one for now. So I’ll hold on to this one, and you take that one.”

“I’m sorry,” Cloud whispered.

Zack laughed. “Honestly, it’s fine. It’s great. You’re great. C’mon.” Zack turned to face the direction the rooftop garden was in and even though Cloud still felt abysmal, he followed Zack out without another word.

* * *

The party was set up close to the doors. There were plastic chairs, tables full of sweet and savory snacks, the chocolate fountain flowed, trays were heaped high with mini burgers and chips, a bench sat laden and overburdened with colorfully wrapped gifts, and streamers and balloons stating 'Happy Birthday' were tied up everywhere Cloud looked. The lack of ‘get well’ merchandise from the gift shop came as a refreshing change of scenery, and Cloud imagined it was the same for Zack. 

They were greeted by a rousing cheer from all of Zack’s family, friends, and comrades. All the people most dear to Zack drew near and encircled them both. Cloud felt like a noose tightened around his neck. He slipped away before the crowd packed too tight around them. Zack followed Cloud with his eyes. Worry furrowed his brows. Cloud threw him a smile as he disappeared and went back to the door where he leaned the crutch against the smooth brick wall of the hospital.

Soft, upbeat music played from a radio somewhere. Cloud listened to the comments directed at Zack: all polite chatter—how good it was to see him up and about—how he was coping—news about other people’s lives that Zack had missed while locked away.

Cloud looked on. A strange sensation and thought rustled through as he watched Zack in contact with his _own_ life, his _own_ friends. Though Cloud only stood a few paces away the distance felt like a hundred-mile chasm that he couldn’t— _didn’t want to?_ —cross. 

Even when— _especially when—_ Zack craned his neck and looked at Cloud through the crowd, with a tilt and a smile, in an inviting-to-join-him gesture, Cloud stayed put. He returned the smile and shook his head. He wanted to let Zack enjoy his time catching up with the people he hadn’t seen in a long while. He didn’t want to be a wet blanket. He didn’t want Zack to worry about him. He really _did_ wish a shrub or topiary would spirit him away but it didn’t happen. So he spent his time looking like he was busy so Zack could go on not thinking about him. Cloud found Zack’s parents who greeted him warmly.

“Cloud, it’s so good to see you! Zack is so happy that you could make it,” Zack’s mother gushed.

“How was your trip to see your family?” Zack’s father asked.

“Good, thank you for asking.”

“Zack told us your family all work in the military?”

“Ah, yes, ma’am, they do.”

“He calls me ma’am,” she said to her husband, “Oh what a delight you are. Maybe my Zack can learn some manners from you.”

“Hey, ma,” Zack yelled just then, “Where’d you put the sodas?”

She sighed. “Over there,” she pointed and turned back around to Cloud. “Many manners. You don’t yell at your mother from across a room or a house, do you?”

“No, ma’am. One look from my mom took that right out of us.”

“You have a brother, right?” she asked.

Cloud nodded.

“We always wanted a second child but Zack was such a handful. It probably would have done him some good to be responsible for someone else and given us a break,” she said with thoughtful intent.

“Looks like he’s found lots of people to be responsible for,” Cloud noted. All three of them looked over to the crowd gathered around Zack, who all laughed at something that had just happened.

“Maybe if we’d have given him a little brother or sister—” Zack’s mother covered her mouth. Her husband stepped up and put his arm around her.

“Shh. It’s okay. Zack is fine.”

She nodded and took a deep breath.

“He’s really strong,” Cloud tried to add his own assurance. “He’ll be okay and get through this.”

“Thank you, Cloud. You’ve been such a huge help to him. We’re so happy he has you. We’re lucky as a family to have you,” she said.

His stomach tightened into knots and Cloud shook his head minutely. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh, it’s everything to our boy, and to us,” Zack’s father said with a smile. “In fact, Flo and I have been discussing it—we’d love to have you over for Christmas one year. You and your family.”

“Oh, that’s… very nice of you to invite us. I'd have to… check with my parents. Ah… thank you. I um… I need to go check on something, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Zack’s mom said and Cloud fled.

He still caught Zack’s parents’ hushed tones to each other as they wondered if they’d scared him off.

The answer was _yes_. He wasn’t sure what to make of the invite: whether to take it seriously. He left those thoughts behind and went around the various tables, to take his pickings of all the food that was on offer while he listened in on conversations that the dispersed crowd had in various pockets of the open entryway of the garden. Cloud, from time to time, looked for Zack through the crowd, just to check on him. He found Zack standing by a table, scarfing down burgers and chatting with people Cloud did and didn’t recognize. They seemed to comment on Zack’s leg in the way they gestured and in the way Zack held himself—Cloud felt his stomach twist with worry—but Zack laughed. Probably fake, though Cloud hoped it to be genuine. Barret Wallace was there too, animatedly talking as he brandished his residual limb which had a prosthetic attached. He looked like he was explaining something to Zack. 

A tight-lipped smile crossed Cloud’s face. Zack needed to have his situation normalized as much as possible. He needed to not feel like he’d be a burden; like he couldn’t accomplish anything now that his life had changed. Cloud recognized that he couldn’t help Zack in that regard. He didn’t have the same issues and certainly wasn’t a living example of a traumatic, life-altering event. Lucky for himself. Zack would get more out of learning from and talking to others with similar lived experiences—like those in his amputee group, and his former squadmates.

He left the heavy thoughts of Zack’s unfortunate circumstances behind and wandered around aimlessly, popping the occasional pretzel into his mouth that he had a handful of. He looked at all the people that milled around. All the people who knew Zack. All the people Zack could apparently _not_ open up to. All the people he needed to be so strong for that the idiot couldn’t even use two crutches to move around with. Cloud looked through the crowd, located Zack’s other crutch right where he’d left it, and shook his head with mild irritation.

He remembered the conversation he’d had with Aerith, the day Zack had his surgery: _Zack has no history with you. There is nothing to hide, nothing to protect._ Why did that thought make him feel hollow inside? Did his friendship hold no weight? Once again the knowledge that Zack would eventually _leave_ the hospital—would _leave_ the city—rose out of the murky depths of Cloud’s psyche. His own stupid feelings aside… their friendship would be lost. Maybe that’s what made Cloud _safe_ for Zack to confide in? Nothing was at stake. He would never be part of Zack’s inner circle to laugh and joke with and reminisce about fond memories with.

He lost his appetite, mid-lift of another pretzel to his mouth. He looked over at Zack who was still surrounded by friends—even more than before. The sound of laughter rose and fell like the raucous wash of waves in and out of the shore.

Cloud told himself he should be lucky to not be included. It didn’t matter what he thought or felt, because ultimately it was of no consequence to Zack, and thus no consequence to himself either. He wouldn’t have to worry about getting close to someone else he couldn’t possibly have—not that he _wanted_ to have Zack. Yes, there were clearly _feelings_ there but he didn’t want to have them. They were pointless to think about, and the sooner he moved on from them the better. 

That thought buzzed around his head until a familiar, “Hey,” stopped him in his tracks.

“Hi, Kunsel.”

“Having fun? Like the snacks?”

“Yeah. The party’s good.”

Kunsel grinned. “I saw that Florence and Laguna had your attention for a while.”

“Yeah. We were just talking. They’re really nice.”

“Oh, you like them?”

Cloud hummed, slightly irked by the small talk.

“Good. They like you too,” he said with conviction.

It came as a bit of a surprise to Cloud. He didn’t think he’d had enough dealings with them to come to any solid conclusion. But, as an afterthought, he uttered, “They invited me over for Christmas.”

“Will you take them up on the offer?”

“No. I’ve got my own family commitments.”

“Would you invite Zack to meet your family?”

“Um…” Cloud stared. Taken aback. “Maybe?” It was an odd conversation. “How long are you here for?”

“Just until the weekend. Then it’s back home to see my wife and kids. Have I ever shown you photos?”

“N-o.” Cloud didn’t even finish before Kunsel pulled out his phone and flicked through his gallery.

Cloud wasn’t interested in the slightest, but he remained polite for about five minutes until it became too much. “I, um, need to go and—”

“Oh, let me show you Cissnei when she was pregnant with our first. She was so gorgeous—” Kunsel scrolled and stopped— “Oh, oops, I went too far.” He laughed and began scrolling back up.

“Wh—Hang on.” Curiosity burned his embarrassment away and he asked, “Is that… Zack?”

“Oh yeah. Here.” Kunsel scrolled back to the beginning of that collection, stepped closer to Cloud, and held his phone up close to both of them.

Cloud looked at the photos Kunsel scrolled through at a far slower pace than his family ones. Zack was in most of the photos in this collection. Some snapshots were posed and staged. A lot were candid shots taken of Zack with his mouth full of food, or asleep. He looked a lot younger. His hair was scraggly and there was a cheeky, carefree, youthfulness to his grin that Cloud didn't think he'd ever seen once in person.

“When were these taken?”

“Nine or so years ago? We both met at our first job. I was a war journalist and embedded into a unit. Zack was just a Private back then. We spent a lot of time together.” Kunsel went through the photos and told Cloud a few stories.

It was like a narrated history of Zack’s life accompanied by images. Cloud saw Zack progress through his military career. The shoulder marks changed in remarkably quick succession. Cloud commented on it.

“He was always very exceptional. Extremely driven and talented. He was expected to rise in ranks and maybe even become the youngest captain they ever had. I guess he’s still on track for that but… this year hasn’t been good for him.” Kunsel slowly flicked through the photos and paused on each. 

The smiles Cloud saw frozen in time punched him with every flick of Kunsel’s finger.

“He’s still got a life ahead of him, even if it’s not the kinda thing he ever wanted or dreamed of,” Kunsel said with sorrow in his voice.

“This sort of thing would be hard on anyone,” Cloud muttered.

“Yeah. But Zack is especially hard on himself, even if he pretends he’s not.”

They both looked up where Zack crowed with laughter.

“Zack will be fine though,” Kunsel said in a soft tone. “I know he will be. He’s got someone _really_ special in his life to help him.”

“Who?” Cloud almost snapped.

Kunsel chuckled and looked at Cloud for a long moment with pressed-together lips and a slight raise of his brows.

Cloud’s chest tightened. He cleared his throat and looked back down at the phone where he could see a photograph of Zack—nude, holding a bazooka against himself in a completely profane way. Cloud stared. His insides tingled. Zack was… built like a tank: muscles rippled and glistened in the bright sunlight, his skin looked smooth and honey-brown. His pecs were chiseled, as was his 6-pack. And Zack’s arms and thighs bulged with definition. He looked like a statue of perfection and wore a grin that said he _knew it_ too. The bazooka almost looked _small_ in comparison to Zack—Cloud snapped his eyes away, completely self-aware of how he gawked. His pulse throbbed in his veins and groin. He huffed and tried to compose himself. “He really did get his kit off every time?”

Kunsel looked down. “Oh, that one.” He chuckled. “Yeah. A lot of the time. When you had a body like his—” He shrugged.

“I’ve known plenty of assholes with bodies like that,” Cloud muttered and looked back at the photograph. He’d seen and worked alongside many douchebags that had looked like Zack—if he didn’t know Zack personally he’d have painted him with the same brush as all the other military jocks. The photos did nothing to dissuade him from that sentiment. They only cemented it.

Kunsel turned off his phone. “He was one. No doubt about it. A cocky, selfish, arrogant asshole. With a really nice body. He’s a really good guy, Cloud. Matured a lot over the years. Especially now. He would have always grown up eventually. All of this just sped it up.” Kunsel stretched. “Hey, I’m dying for a piss. If you want any of these photos let me know. I always like to give people ammunition to blackmail Zack. I trust you’ll use anything I give you in an appropriate way.” He smiled at Cloud and then walked off.

Cloud stood around. The pictures of Zack flicked through his head, particularly that last one. He looked back over at Zack who was still surrounded by his military buddies. Cloud thought back on what he’d first thought of Zack. How it’d changed. How Kunsel confirmed that Zack _had_ been everything Cloud had dreaded and hated about people like _him_. But overarchingly Cloud thought of how Zack actually was now: sweet, deeply handsome— _sexy—_ capable, in the prime of his life, even though he was broken, battered, bruised, both on the inside and outside. Was it cruel to admit he liked this Zack? Was it presumptuous to think he wouldn’t have liked Zack before all of this had happened to him?

Cloud told himself that Zack was still Zack. The things he liked about him would have still been there before everything. But his past experience soured him. Would Zack change back into the guy he had been before, once he went back to the military? There was no answer or certainty. It wasn’t worth thinking about because it wouldn't affect him.

He huffed out deep breaths and walked toward a trash can to drop his unwanted snacks into it. If only it was so easy to drop one’s feelings too, he lamented.

He went past Zack’s group and overheard—

“You know where I caught this idiot doing squats once? In a chocobo pen,” a woman Cloud recognized as Trudy, whom he’d met a while ago, tittered.

The mention of chocobos slowed Cloud's gait.

“What the hell were ya doing in a chocobo pen?” Barret said.

“Ahh… squats.” Zack grinned and rubbed his head.

“But why?”

“I think I was waiting for the start of a mission or for the squad to come back?” Zack grinned and shifted on his crutch. 

“Well, if you’re squatting in the pens no wonder the birds never liked you.” 

Cloud stopped just short of the group.

“I think it was Tyr’s stall too,” Trudy said which made Zack’s squad members laugh in a raucous way.

“Really? Zack!” the other woman Cloud recognizes, Antonia, admonished.

Zack gave a cheesy grin and shrugged.

“What’s so special about Tyr?” Cloud asked, the name catching his attention even as all eyes drew onto him.

“Cloud, hey, c’mere.” Zack grinned and hopped over a few steps toward him. The crowd parted and made room for Cloud to join in.

Warily, Cloud stepped forward but felt unbelievably nervous too. He’d always been an outcast when he’d gone to basic. He felt like he was intruding on a family. 

But he wanted to be in on the jokes too. 

“So, Tyr _hated_ Zack,” Barret informed and clapped his hand on Cloud’s shoulder.

Cloud jumped, somehow having missed the mountain of a man come up next to him. He was incredibly tall—taller than Zack, by the looks of things.

“Hate’s a strong word,” Zack piped up.

“He pecked you every chance he could,” Barret said pointedly and smirked.

“Remember that one time Zack bit him back?” Someone Cloud didn’t know screamed and burst with laughter.

The crowd all nodded and hollered.

“You bit a chocobo?” Cloud asked, incredulous—mortified even. The pictures Kunsel had shown him and the unpleasant thoughts and feelings attached to them seemed to come alive before his very own eyes.

“He was being a real ass, okay?” Zack defended. “He always scratched and kicked dirt at me.”

“He bucked you off any time you were assigned to him,” Trudy added.

“Yeah, yeah! Remember how we always knew when Zack had a falling out with Lazard, ‘cause he’d assign Tyr _to_ Zack?” Barret howled with laughter. 

The crowd erupted with a roar.

“Yeah, everyone knew how much those two were like oil and water!” someone added.

Other chatter rang through the air that Cloud didn’t catch.

“Why didn’t he like you?” Cloud asked quietly of Zack, who’d come closer and stood before him now.

Zack shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Maybe it was that you’d squat in his stall,” someone goaded.

“Maybe he didn’t like your aftershave and could smell you all up in his home,” someone else chimed in.

The group erupted again and shouted things about Zack’s overuse of cologne.

“Maybe it was the one-handed handstand you figured you could do on the back of his saddle that one time,” Antonia giggled into her hand.

Most of the group doubled over in laughter.

“Or maybe,” Zack said, “he was just a bad egg.”

Cloud grunted with deep annoyance. “In my experience, there are no bad eggs. Chocobos show you as much respect as you show them. And that’s especially true for the males that are bred for the military. They have a lot of pride and demand it given back to them.”

“You know a thing or two about chocobos, huh?” Antonia said.

All eyes went on Cloud. He crossed his arms. Heat rose to his cheeks and his whole demeanor soured. It irritated him that people like this were allowed anywhere near the birds. “I’ve been around them long enough to know better than to do _handstands_ on their backs.” He locked Zack with a stern stare.

Zack opened his mouth but only unintelligible sounds came out.

“Well, there we go. Mystery solved and we heard it from an expert. Zack has no respect for birds and they won’t have respect for him,” Barret said while he continued to laugh.

“I do too have respect for them. When they do their job,” Zack growled. “He just always had it out for me,” he finished in a whine.

“Maybe you need to do your job and not abuse your equipment,” Cloud shot back with a spurt of heated agitation.

“Hey, hey, there was never any abuse, okay? I respect all living creatures,” Zack said, taking another step toward Cloud.

“And yet you’re in the mili—” A cold, sick dread dumped over Cloud. He hadn't been able to shut his mouth quick enough. Hadn't been able to bite his tongue. It was an unspoken rule that you _did not_ ever bring up the fact that those on combat duty had blood on their hands. _Zack_ had blood on his hands—Cloud had almost forgotten. All of Zack’s squad would have… he grew painfully aware of the silence that descended on the group. He huffed. He’d fucked up. He knew he’d fucked up and there was nothing he could do about it. 

The big, powerful hand on his shoulder tightened. “What’s that s’posed to mean?” Barret spun Cloud around and towered over him, with a growing scowl.

Cloud swallowed. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He shrugged out of the grip and tried to leave, but Barret stepped in front of him. The crowd felt like it grew denser around him. He felt trapped. He was literally trapped in a circle of people he’d just insulted. Everyone glared at him. His heart thundered. A distant but familiar panic rose inside him.

“Hey, no. Cloud, it’s alright, you don’t have to go. C’mon,” Zack said. “We’re just having fun. Wallace, _chill,”_ he said with gravitas in his voice which undercut the laid-back meaning of his words. “That goes for the rest of you too. That’s an order.”

Barret backed down though he still looked pissed off. The group around Cloud stood down, shoulders dropped, people stepped away with quiet murmurs of annoyance.

Cloud had completely ruined the mood. Embarrassed himself. Embarrassed Zack. “Sorry. I’ll go. I’ve got things I need to do anyway,” he said quietly and tur—

“Cloud. Please.” Zack’s voice hitched. His jaw clenched. He hopped closer. “Stay,” he added emphatically. His need sat rife in that one word.

Cloud took in the sight of Zack’s tense expression and how the tight grip on his crutch had his knuckles pulled white and the walking aid aquiver. Zack’s need for him almost overcame his burning embarrassment. But Cloud was hyper-aware of the crowd. He’d super fucked up. Every hair on his body wanted to escape. “I’m sorry for having said that. Sorry, Barret. Sorry, Zack. Sorry, everyone.”

“Yeah, you better be, ya punk. We serve and protect, which isn’t anything someone like you—”

_“Wallace,”_ Zack snapped. That one word like a slap to the face. 

Cloud shook with the outrage Barret’s remark ignited in him. But he kept his mouth shut. He’d insulted everyone. Now wasn’t the time to correct the self-important, arrogant asshole. “It’s okay,” Cloud whispered and backed out of the group, which had shrunk away from him. The silence broke as people chatted again—in hushed murmurs. 

Cloud left.

Zack followed.

“Cloud.”

Cloud stopped and turned around—he nearly bumped into Zack's chest. He took a step back. “I’m really sorry.”

Zack closed the distance again. “It’s okay.”

Cloud felt crowded and took another step back. “It’s not. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t look at Zack. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Why did he always say assholish things?

Zack hopped forward again. He reached for Cloud and brushed against his hand and hooked their fingers together. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it like that. And don’t worry about the others.” He smiled.

Cloud felt like a dunce. He pulled his hand out of Zack’s hold. “I need to get some air. Can you please leave me alone?” Shame burned inside and outside of his skin.

“Oh. Y-yeah. Sorry.” Zack hopped back a step.

“I’ll come back. I just… need air.”

Zack nodded. Cloud turned and blindly hurried off to get away from the burning stares. A part of him wanted Zack to follow him anyway. Follow him into the garden so they could be alone together, but Cloud heard Zack's name get called by others who were more important than him so he knew he wouldn't get his wish. 

Cloud kept up his hurried steps and didn't look back. He needed to get far away from these people.

He didn’t get very far when a grating voice called out—

“Strife.”

Cloud instantly stiffened and halted mid-stride. He really wished a topiary would eat him. Or eat—“Private Jensen,” he said with grit teeth. This was the last thing he needed right now. 

“It’s Private _First Class_ , actually.” He tapped his shoulder mark.

“Congratulations,” Cloud drawled and looked past the man’s shoulder to the garden path and his escape strategy.

“Thanks, but hold your congratulations. This rank is pretty easy to obtain… for some.” The man said as a sneer tugged at his chapped lips. His hazy blue-gray eyes sparkled with contempt.

Cloud pursed his lips and struggled to keep the wrinkle of his nose under control. He looked away, back at the crowd where Zack shuffled and hopped around, and spoke in turn with everyone—most likely to apologize and justify Cloud’s remarks.

Cloud felt so guilty. Guilty for having caused a scene. Guilty for being another reason why Zack wouldn’t stay still—wouldn’t rest and take it easy. It was like watching popcorn dance in a pan. He acted like behaving like someone who’d lost a limb would spell the end of his life. But then, with people like Lionel Jensen around… Cloud couldn’t find blame for Zack’s insecurities. “What do you want?” he said with maximum exasperation but refused to give his attention to the _problem_ before him.

“Checking for riff-raff and unwanted party crashers. I’ve hit the jackpot with you today.”

Cloud snapped his attention back onto the insufferable asshole. He clenched his fists, which didn’t stop the tremble that ran through his body. He itched to let a punch fly.

“What happened?” Jensen said with grating smugness. “Couldn't stand not being the center of attention? Had to create drama? You certainly got it, didn’t ya.”

“What the fuck is your problem with me?”

“No problem. Just worried about you. It doesn’t look like you got lucky with the Sergeant. Might blow your chances if you keep insulting everyone he ever worked with. But you probably already blow anyway, don’t ya.”

Cloud huffed—almost growled. His fingernails dug into his palm. He sidestepped the asshole. “I’d best let you get back to your _very important_ security detail, _Private,_ ” he said, infused with as much vitriol as he could muster, and walked away in the direction of the garden to get some fresh air.

“The Sergeant’s _the other_ way if you wanna go crying to someone who can fix your problems for you,” Jensen called after, a twisted amusement to his voice.

Cloud would have loved to do a whole host of other things to the asshole, but as it was right now he didn’t want to cause a scene. He stomped away to find a place where he could let the somewhat-cooling August winds blow his heated and sour mood away. The storms from earlier in the summer season were long gone, and the humidity wasn't as stifling. Being outside was downright pleasant… or would have been if Cloud wasn’t fuming. 

Today felt like a disaster. A day he’d looked forward to, too much to admit to, had come completely undone. He only had others partly to blame for it, which was the clincher. What had he been thinking? He’d gotten so annoyed. Had felt so… left out. He'd said unforgivable things though. Over, and over, and over again. It seemed to get worse every time he opened his mouth 

He picked up speed and tried to find the farthest-flung part of the garden. Being around _these people_ wasn’t good for him. He’d made a right mess of it with Zack. He felt too embarrassed to go back, but there was no other way to get out of there other than the way he'd just come. Maybe he’d be better off taking a one-way ride off the roof. He blew out a gust of air from his nose. It wouldn’t be worth it. It wouldn’t do to give _Private_ Jensen any sort of satisfaction. Though he briefly imagined the _paperwork_ he might inflict on him. That made him chuckle.

The mirth melted. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He detested having unsavory people from his past flitting in and out of his life—especially _here_ , so far removed from where he’d been stationed five years ago. He hated how old feelings stirred and made him hot. He really needed to work on holding his tongue. Or should have had that conversation in private, instead of in front of an audience. It _had_ been a private matter. It had been his fault for assuming that Zack would be all his to converse with. 

He rounded a corner and headed deeper into the hedged and well-maintained garden. The sound of music and human chatter grew faint. The rustle of wind in the leaves of the trees, the rising chirps and squawks of the birds hidden in the foliage, and the prattle of water in the distance completed the serene picture Cloud found himself in. He stopped and he breathed. The sun shone brightly. He squinted against it as he stared at the cloudless sky. What had he done? What had he said? He slumped his shoulders. He let it go. He couldn’t fix it or undo it. This was why he had no friends. This was why—in part—his military career had been cut short. This was why Zack would never...

As much as he’d messed up and made a fool of himself in front of Zack’s colleagues, he also wanted Zack’s arms around him to offer comfort and absolution. Zack had already forgiven him. He’d just have to learn to deal with the fallout of his own actions and maybe apologize some more to the people important to Zack. He wouldn’t normally care but… Zack’s friends. Cloud figured he should have some sort of positive standing with them because… No. It wouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Zack would leave and move on.

He stood with himself, with his thoughts and feelings. He didn’t know what to do with any of them. He had no control or say in the matter. If Zack didn’t think of him as… if Zack didn’t… but he did. Right? Zack liked him. Kunsel had said… Kunsel had _looked_ at him. ‘Someone special.’ The roar of jealousy flashed through him for an instant. Had Kunsel tried to flag that he was seeing Zack? No. Cloud shook that thought out of his head. The guy seemed happily married and had kids. But it seemed odd how much Kunsel had commented on Zack’s physical appearance. And the guy had naked photos of Zack. But Cloud also figured everyone else in the squad probably had those photos too. The man really seemed to have no shame. It made Cloud smile, but it fell away again. Zack had shame now. A lot of it. His gut twisted like a knife plunged into him.

Kunsel had to have meant Cloud with his pointed stare. Was he really special to Zack? Could there ever be a future for them? Zack would leave eventually. Zack was tied up with something Cloud didn’t agree with. Today’s outburst proved it. Cloud was incapable of holding his tongue. Even all the nasty things he’d said to Zack on the way up to the roof were proof of it. Cloud pinched his forehead. Why was he such an awful human being? He had attitudes and beliefs. He had… _principals—_ it came out in Sephiroth’s voice. Cloud rubbed his face and groaned quietly. If he couldn’t move on—if he couldn’t be better instead of bitter… the past would repeat itself. He shook his head clear of those thoughts. It wasn’t worth thinking about.

He looked around the garden as he wandered and breathed in the fragrant and fresh scents around him which set off a tickle in his nose from time to time. He followed the garden path around a bend and saw Aerith, dressed in a yellow sundress, knelt before a flowerbed. She grazed her fingers over the plants in the bed.

"Have you lost something?"

"Oh, hello, Cloud." Laughter tinkled and she stood up, running her palms over her dress pleats to iron out the wrinkles. "No, I haven't lost anything. I was taking a look at the plants up here. I’m surprised to see these flowers still blooming. I should speak with the gardener,” she muttered to herself. “What about you? You’ve wandered pretty far yourself.”

“Stretching my legs.”

Mischief narrowed Aerith’s eyes and brightened her smile, “More like you aren’t a party person.”

Cloud huffed with amusement. “Guilty as charged. When did you get here? I didn’t see you at the party earlier.” He nodded his head back toward the way he’d come from. 

“Oh, maybe half an hour ago? It’s a bit crowded. I didn’t see you over there either.” She grinned at him. Cloud felt relieved. At least she hadn’t witnessed…

“Thank you for staying and for keeping Zack company,” Aerith said. “I know he _really_ appreciates it.”

“I don’t think he needs my company today. Lots of people around—” He kept the grimace inside. “I didn’t know it was his birthday,” he spoke with heavy insinuation. He felt more and more convinced that if he had known he _should have_ gone home.

“Oh?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “That man.”

“It’s not like you said anything to me either.” He frowned pointedly.

“I told you I’d see you today.” She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “You can’t pin this on me. There was a _birthday_ card in the crate I asked you to deliver.”

Cloud looked away. “I don’t snoop around in things. And you still didn’t exactly _tell_ me."

Aerith laughed lightly. “Okay, I forgot to spell it out. I’m sorry.”

Discomfort agitated his limbs. He shifted his stance and said, “Don’t let me keep you,” and hoped she would go back to whatever it was that she’d been doing.

She laughed again. “You’re not keeping me from anything. I should probably go back and check on Zack. I have a feeling he needs someone to tell him to sit down.”

Cloud let out a dry chuckle and nodded. She started walking but threw him a questioning look after a few steps as Cloud stayed his ground. 

“Go on without me. I’ll catch up in a while.” He turned back toward the flowerbed and examined the dainty flora which carpeted the greenery. Seeing the familiar blue and yellow flowers sent Cloud’s mind instantly back to Zack. “Ah… Aerith.”

“Yes?” She turned back around and walked over as Cloud pointed to the flowers. 

“What are these?”

She looked at them. “Forget-me-not’s.”

“What do they mean? Zack… he told me all flowers have a meaning?”

“They do!” She clapped her hands together. “Flowers are the language of symbolism. That’s why we give them to those we love and those we have lost—and of course to everyone and for everything in between. You can find a flower for just about any occasion.”

“Are forget-me-not’s about… not forgetting?”

“They are, but they also mean more than just that. They serve as a reminder to love and cherish those who are around us, and not just mourn those who have gone. Forget-me-not’s can be about undying love, about remembering people and creating shared memories that last through all of time. There’s actually this cute little myth attached to them. Do you want to hear it?” She looked at Cloud expectantly.

He suspected that even if he didn’t want to hear it, she’d tell him anyway. He nodded.

Her eyes sparkled. "So the story goes that two lovers took a stroll along a riverbank when they spotted these flowers. The man wanted to fetch them for his beloved because they reminded him of her. But he was suddenly swept away by the river and called out to her to never forget him.” She giggled. “It’s a bit silly, but also rather sweet, don’t you think?”

“We can agree on the silly bit. It’s pretty grim.”

Aerith giggled some more. “Zack is a sucker for tragic love stories. It’s partly why he likes these flowers so much.”

“He likes them?”

“Mhmm.” She knelt down again, delicately touching the petals.

Cloud’s pulse throbbed in his veins and gut. It was a small gesture but… “Aerith…”

“Yes?” She looked up at him with a bright smile. 

“Can you teach me how to make a flower crown? I’d…” he could feel himself get hot at the mere thought of it, “like to make one for Zack.” It wouldn’t fix anything but he thought he needed to make an effort to apologize properly for… _everything_ today. He felt responsible for ruining Zack’s birthday. And if Zack turned around and told Cloud he’d never want to see him again then the flowers seemed an apt gift of departure.

Aerith stood up with a jump. “Yes, of course! Absolutely. What a wonderful idea! I do have a bit of string and wire and… oh look!” Amazingly enough, she pulled all kinds of things out of the pockets in her dress. "I even have snippers and tape." She laughed. 

Cloud chuckled. "Why on earth…"

She shrugged. "Always be prepared for a flower emergency." 

* * *

Cloud and Aerith returned to the party after about half an hour. Cloud hoped it was sufficient time for people to forget. He felt stronger coming back in someone else's company. At least Jensen wouldn’t dare approach him. That man was that kind of a coward.

The food was mostly gone and the crowd somehow seemed denser than before. Zack hobbled around on his one crutch and played an exemplary host—he checked on all his guests; if they had enough to eat and drink. 

Laughter rang, insistences that Zack should sit down and be waited on were handed out at every turn. Zack responded with a robust laugh and a repeatedly dismissive, "I'm fine."

Cloud stared and grimaced as he watched Zack do his best to cart around snacks to people. Zack spotted him and Aerith, and with a bright smile, came over to them.

“Hey! Cloud! Aerith! There you two are! I’m glad you’re still here”—he looked at Cloud—“Care for some crackers?” He held out the bowl. "Most of the delicious things are gone but these are still good. Did you get to eat the mini burgers?"

Aerith hummed. "I managed to grab one. They were really yummy."

Zack looked pleased. "And you?" He smiled at Cloud.

"Yeah. I had one. You really shouldn't be doing so much," Cloud said, exasperated, and took the entire bowl from Zack’s hand.

Zack laughed. "Oh, no. I'm great. This is all great. You liked the burgers?"

Cloud rolled his eyes but nodded.

"Excellent. Oh, is that for me?" Zack reached with his now-free hand for the flower crown Aerith held.

"Yes. But don't touch." She swiped at Zack's hand. "Cloud, do you want to?" She looked at him and held out the fortified-yet-still-delicate crown

Zack looked between them.

Too embarrassed with the thought of getting close to Zack as he towered over him, Cloud shook his head. 

“Oh, go on,” Aerith urged.

“No. I’ll probably break it.”

“Nonsense,” she chastised, but still stepped up to Zack and reached up to dorn the man with the crown. “Sir.”

“Ma’am.” Zack dipped down a considerable way and grinned with a twinkle in his eye directed at Cloud.

"He says he’s clumsy but he made this for you, you know,” she said to Zack. “With my help, but I didn’t do much at all. It was all Cloud’s delicate hands.” She shot a grin over at Cloud, who looked away.

Almost out of nowhere, Zack's mother swooped in. "Baby, your uncle is on the phone." She held her cell out to Zack.

"Uncle Angeal?" Zack croaked with eagerness and lifted his head.

“Hey, watch it,” Aerith chided as Zack nearly headbutted her.

“Sorry.” Zack lowered his head again.

"Here you go," Zack’s mom still held the cell out to Zack.

"Kinda busy right now, mom. Give it to Cloud to hold for me for a sec." He nodded in Cloud’s general direction. Aerith still maneuvered the delicate flowers and pulled the crown over and under Zack’s hair.

Cloud stared, confused.

"Okay,” Zack’s mum said, and then headed toward Cloud and spoke into the receiver as she went, “Zack’s busy. Stay on. He'll talk to you in a minute.”

"Cloud's gonna keep you company while I'm getting made pretty," Zack shouted.

And then Cloud had the cell thrust in his face and was left alone.

He fumbled with the device. "Ah… h-hello?"

_"Hello,"_ came a deep, rich, and amused voice through the line. 

"Zack won't be a minute." He looked over at Zack who wore a grin.

"Cloud made me a flower crown, uncle! How neat is that?" Zack shouted.

_"Ahh. What flowers did you use?"_

"Forget-me-nots?" Cloud said meekly.

_"Zack's favorite."_ He sounded pleased.

"Y-yeah." Cloud didn’t know what was happening right now.

"Alright, I'm all done!" Zack sprung up wearing a tremendous grin and the crown. "How do I look?" he asked and looked between Cloud and Aerith.

"Great. Right, Cloud?" Aerith enthused and reached up to pull some of the shorter strands of Zack’s hair into place.

Cloud stepped over to Zack, hummed, and handed over the phone.

"Uncle!" Zack yelled into the phone.

Cloud worked to keep his smile in check. There was something utterly endearing about the excitement on Zack’s face.

Zack shifted on his foot as he listened to his uncle for a moment. “You know why you can’t get any good help, right? Because you live in hicksville!” Zack grinned, paused, and burst with laughter. “Hey! It’s _your_ family that moved there. Not my fault where I was born.” He cackled for a loud second and then his voice dropped. “But really, you should come live closer to civilization. There are so many awesome places like Kalm or Healen that are still country-vibe but also really close to big city centers. You could have your wide-open lands and endless skies but still be closer to things you need.”

Cloud smiled as he watched Zack’ own smile grow. He looked so happy talking to his uncle. It felt strange to him that other people actually felt happy talking to their relatives.

Zack nodded and said, "And neither do helpful assistance." He laughed again, bright and warm. "You should really come live somewhere else though. I might even get to see you more than once every couple of years if you moved somewhere close to a base. There’s always good work for mechanics. The vehicles get wrecked.” Another pause was followed by raucous laughter. “You’re seeing right through me.”

Zack shifted on his foot as he listened to his uncle respond. His joy mellowed into something softer. He then responded, "Good. Cloud's looking after me." He smiled over at Cloud.

Heated embarrassment rose inside of Cloud.

Zack listened for a moment. "Yeah. The most special." He flashed Cloud another smile.

Cloud couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was being discussed.

"Oh, definitely not. If anything, I'm not enough." Zack belly laughed and giggled. He nodded along and then said, "Aww, uncle. That would be great. I really miss you.” Zack’s mirth mellowed again. He smiled softly. His eyes darted and flickered on and off Cloud. "I will. Thanks."

Zack hung up, pocketed his mother’s phone, and grinned from ear to ear. “That was my uncle.”

“How is he?” Aerith asked.

“He’s busy and apologized for not being able to make it. He said he’d come and see me for Christmas though.”

“Oh, that’s great! Rocket Town isn’t a hicksville though,” she scolded him.

Zack laughed long and loud. “You hicksville people all talk the same way. If I hadn’t gotten you unstuck you’d still be out there with your van to this day, broken down and sad, because no one ever goes there.”

Aerith scrunched up her nose. “Not true!”

“Way true! I saved you, and I’ll save uncle Angeal too. So hey, Cloud—” Zack locked onto Cloud with a vibrant smile. “How’s it look? Great, right?” Zack pointed at his hair and gave Cloud such an expectant expression.

A little whiplashed, Cloud nodded and looked away again before the beautiful joy of that smile and the devastating handsomeness of Zack Fair could embed itself in his heart and somehow rise to the surface of his cheeks.

"Thank you so much. You didn’t have to trouble yourself." Zack's voice danced with happiness.

"No, I had to. I'm sorry about… before. For everything that’s… I’m sorry," Cloud said quietly.

"You're still thinking about it? Buddy! No. It's okay." Zack hopped a little closer to Cloud and slapped his hand on Cloud's shoulder.

Cloud flinched. "It’s not. I shouldn’t…” He took a deep breath. He always held on to things too much. “I’m just really sorry.”

"Apology _totally_ accepted," Zack smiled softly, which stirred flutters in Cloud's chest. It lasted all but three seconds because Cloud grew aware of the tremble running through Zack's hand as it still rested on him. He looked at Zack’s hold on the crutch; strained white knuckles. Cloud frowned and placed his hand atop of Zack's on his shoulder. "You should sit down," he said sternly.

Zack huffed and the good-natured expression plunged.

"Hey, you two, let's cut the cake now." Aerith intervened and grabbed Zack's arm. 

The two men detangle and Aerith led Zack to a table with seats where she loudly announced that it was time to properly celebrate. Relieved, Cloud followed to join in, though on spotting Barret and Jensen he decided to hang back a little, instead of being at the main table where the cake and Zack sat. At least Zack _finally_ sat. Cloud could appreciate that from a distance, he figured.

There were some speeches given. Cloud wanted to die every time someone mentioned his name—mentioned what a great support he’d been and how generous he was with his time. Cloud felt eyes judge him, heard the scoffs, and the quietest of laughs. He felt so embarrassed and why couldn’t a topiary eat him? Seriously? There was absolutely nowhere to hide.

Finally, reprieve came though, from an utterly surprising source: a guitar was produced and handed over to Zack.

Someone shouted, "No, don't let him torture us!"

Someone else chimed in, "Anything but the singing!"

"Look, I promise not to sing but the rest of you _shush!_ I'm not so rusty anymore. I've had _lots_ of time to practice," Zack shot back, a big grin on his face as he got comfortable with the instrument in his arms and resting on his lap.

More light ribbing popped off through the crowd. 

Cloud found himself laughing along and nervously waited for Zack to begin the chords which turned into Happy Birthday. Everyone sang, including Cloud.

Afterward, the cake, a multi-tiered thing of beauty, was produced and rapidly devoured. After that, someone asked Zack to play more songs. More cheerful jibes went up directed at Zack's playing and eventually Zack strummed the instrument again. He played real simple versions of Knockin' on Heaven's Door, Love Me Do, and Sweet Caroline. 

Of course, Zack had told him about having loved playing the guitar when he’d been younger. He’d told Cloud about having gotten super rusty since the military took up so much of his time. He told him about having picked it back up in music therapy. Cloud knew Zack played. But now he _knew_ what Zack _looked_ like while he played the guitar. 

With each new song the vision of Zack biting his lip whilst he delicately plucked away—and occasionally fumbled—at the strings, burned into Cloud's mind. Each strummed chord reverberated deeply and nestled inside of his chest. Thoughts of Zack's fingers against his skin—delicate touches and strokes—dripped a long-forgotten feeling into his stomach and knotted him with the faintest hint of a desire. Cloud shifted his hips again. Zack just kept ticking all the boxes. Cloud was in deep trouble.

The guitar playing stopped and Cloud was released from his spellbound gaze. The remaining dreamlike trance washed away as he witnessed Zack get back onto his feet and return to his previous soldier routine. He wore the mask of the invincible: the smiles, the laughs, the held in gasps and grunts of exertion as he kept insisting on hobbling around on only one crutch. 

Cloud took note of the way Zack’s arm shook, and the way he distracted himself from it with loud laughs and long conversations with his friends, his work colleagues, or other hospital visitors. 

To stop himself from feeling irritated, and to keep Jensen from coming back to speak with him, Cloud made another effort to socialize: only with Aerith though, and Zack’s parents, who spent a lot of time telling Cloud about Zack's earlier forays into guitar playing as well as other, more in-depth childhood antics. They kept thanking him for being in Zack's life, of how proud they were of their son, and listed all of Zack's remarkable and good qualities. Cloud already knew about them—even the exaggerated ones. He listened to be polite until Kunsel came around and whisked him away. 

“Hey, I hope you’re okay. I got caught up talking with some old friends I haven’t seen in a while. I just want to check on you.”

“I’m okay.” Cloud tried to ignore the high probability that Kunsel referred to the chocobo debacle.

“Look, don’t think anything bad of the squad. They’re super protective and loyal to Zack, especially after everything that’s happened. Especially Wallace. He’s a guard dog personified.”

“I’m really okay. I’d rather forget it ever happened.”

“Ah, sure. Well, thanks for sticking around. How’d you find Zack’s guitar playing? I do have to admit, he’s improved. He used to play an old broken thing which was missing like two or three strings but he’d play it anyway and make up dumb songs about the flickering lights and the drips in the bunkers we’d sometimes sleep in.”

Cloud huffed with the smallest laugh. “He plays it really well.”

“He’s quite handsome when he plays. At least he didn’t sing. That shatters the whole illusion.”

Cloud chuckled with more strength. “Looks like he’s got a reputation.”

“Oh yeah. Once the squad commander actually considered sending him out into enemy territory to try and torture the other side into surrendering.”

A proper laugh left Cloud then. “Real ‘make your ears bleed’ kind of stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Kunsel kept telling Cloud stories and various amusing heroic anecdotes.

Cloud heard a lot actually from the few people he was comfortable with and hadn’t made a fool of himself in front of. He did feel like something was up since they all seemed to be paying attention to him and went out of their way to tell him yet _another_ anecdote about Zack. Maybe it was because it was the man's birthday…. It didn't really matter. He only half paid attention to what was being spoken about. The other half of him focused on Zack and the familiar game he played of pushing himself too far.

Cloud couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed or angry with Zack. He felt sympathetic. He thought he understood. He kept thinking of the photos Kunsel had shown him: how capable and able Zack had been. How far he’d come. How much had changed. Cloud looked forward to the party’s end so Zack could release himself from the burden of his disguise. And so he could apologize just _one more time._ Cloud was intent on seeing it all through.

The party, however, dragged and seemed to drag even more with the arrival of General Sephiroth, which had everyone in a tizzy and Cloud deeply mortified. What should have been a pleasant surprise turned into sickening anxiety. Sephiroth gave him a passing nod as he strode past and headed over to where Zack stood, surrounded by his immediate family. Cloud didn’t know whether to slip away or risk being seen talking with the General. 

In paranoia, warranted or otherwise, he felt eyes on himself. Eyes of military personnel. Eyes of Jensen. He could almost feel that man's malicious thoughts taunt him. 

He tried for distance, found Kunsel to talk to at the opposite end of where Zack and Sephiroth had their own conversation. Kunsel gushed over all of the General's achievements. Cloud knew about them all, of course. It was nice though that Kunsel didn't seem aware of Cloud's connections with the General, so he felt himself relax as he listened. 

Cloud found himself sneak a peek over at the two men just to confirm for himself that Sephiroth stood taller than Zack, though it might have been the boots he wore, and then threw himself into a conversation with Kunsel about the latest locations the man had visited for his job.

The General didn’t stay long. Before Cloud got too uncomfortable having to fish for topics of conversation, Sephiroth was on the move again. He got stopped by several people on his way to the door… which Cloud realized all too late he stood close to.

Cloud excused himself and moved away, aiming for a table where he spied the bowl of crackers he'd held earlier, but he didn’t reach his destination before the smooth baritone way his name was called out stopped him dead in his tracks. Cloud turned toward the towering man.

“Hello.” Cloud tried at a warm smile, “Nice to see you. I’m surprised you came.”

“It seems like you would rather I be gone.” A sad look ghosted and furrowed Sephiroth's brows.

Cloud straightened up at that remark and fully faced the other man. “It’s not that. It’s just… the environment.” Had it been any other day… Today was just the _worst_ day for Cloud.

Sephiroth _hmphed_ and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I'm just making my way out, but wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I am sorry that I forgot to mention it when we saw each other last, but I am glad we got this opportunity now.”

“Ah… thank you," he smiled. "What did you come here for?”

“I think Sergeant Fair will be happy to tell you.” Sephiroth’s heavy gaze shifted off Cloud, who followed the man’s line of sight to land on Zack, who stood surprisingly close by.

Cloud caught, or thought he caught, a flicker of something heavy on Zack's face, and in turn, it left something heavy in Cloud's chest. 

Sephiroth nodded at Zack, who returned the gesture. Sephiroth turned his attention onto Cloud, reached for his shoulder, and gently squeezed. “I will be heading off now. Take care of yourself and see you at Christmas.”

“Thank you. You too. See you then,” Cloud returned meekly, overcome with the warmth of the touch yet also fought every urge to shirk away, which could possibly draw _even more_ attention to himself and the General.

Sephiroth departed and Cloud, with his head sunk and his shoulders tight, shuffled to the table he had been aiming for. He half-expected Zack to clap him on the back at any moment and start a conversation with him, but it never came. Cloud was left to grab whatever food he could find and then to seek out Zack.

He heard the jovial laugh before his eyes ever found the other man—he stood clear across the garden space and talked to his old squadmates.

An odd sense of having gotten the cold shoulder overcame Cloud. He retreated with his crackers and looked for a quiet space to wait out the party.

* * *

Slowly, the crowd thinned as the afternoon waned.

Every time someone or a group of someones left it became a big deal though. Lots of hugs. Lot's of 'love yas', and fist bumps, and claps on the back.

Zack was too busy; hadn't said a word to Cloud since the birthday cake. Cloud felt unwelcomed and tried to slip away while Zack's family and a few more people were still around.

“Hey, Cloud! Wait up!” were the words that stopped him from escaping unnoticed.

Zack hobbled over quickly. “You’re leaving?” He huffed and caught his breath.

Zack's concern and interest felt like a balm on something raw inside of Cloud's chest. “Bernice was pretty clear that everyone needs to be gone by six. It’s nearly five-thirty.” He checked his watch.

“But she always lets you stay. Please stay.”

“Oh… okay.” Cloud gave a tight-lipped smile, relieved over the request. He supposed he was being too sensitive. With so many people around, Zack had a lot of catching up to do. 

He stayed and helped clean up. He watched Zack do his best to help as well and finally, when they were all ready and cleaned up, Zack picked up his second crutch. Cloud felt relieved and accompanied Zack and Zack's parents back to the residential floor.

They talked about the party with Zack’s parents during the elevator ride down. Zack then received hugs from them—and surprisingly enough, Cloud also got pulled into hugs before Zack's parents departed.

Cloud and Zack walked down the hall a lot slower than earlier that day. He knew Zack struggled—had pushed himself way too hard—was a complete idiot for it. Cloud also knew better than to voice it. He vowed to keep his trap zipped.

"Did you have a good day?" Cloud did allow himself congeniality. 

"Yeah. It was amazing seeing everyone and being out. Kind of felt half-way back to myself." Zack flashed a smile.

Cloud returned it.

Zack sighed and looked ahead of himself. "This hallway always been this long?"

Cloud huffed. "Yeah."

Zack grunted and his crutches clicked.

To distract himself from wanting to say something he'd later regret, and to keep Zack's mind off the evident strain his trembling body was under, he asked, "What was the General doing here?"

Zack hummed and seemed to shrink. “He came to give me actual good news.”

“What was it?” 

“You really don’t know, huh?”

“Know what?”

“I’ve been cleared to stay here.” 

Cloud stopped dead in his tracks. A heavy weight rolled off his chest. “Wow! That’s fantastic news!”

Zack turned around slowly. "You really think so?"

"Of course! Don't you?"

Zack puffed out a breath and his smile flourished. “Yeah, I do too. You and your mom really came through for me.”

A flash of heat went through Cloud. He shrugged but huffed with amusement. “So what’s that mean for you?”

“Well," Zack got himself facing the right way and started off on the walk to his room once more. “It means," his voice strained with every step he took, "I stay here until I get discharged from the hospital." He puffed. "I still need security detail and really—need to keep visitors to a minimum—and stick to the list of approved people—you’re definitely one of them,” Zack enthused and looked over at Cloud with a generous smile, “and that’s more or less it. Neat, huh?”

“Yeah. That’s great news. Amazing news to get on your birthday.”

“Yeah, it really is. Thank you.” Zack stopped in his tracks. He held the smile and looked at Cloud. He looked and looked. 

Cloud grew uncomfortable but held onto his own smile and waited for whatever it was Zack had in mind to say or do next. Maybe he'd bring up the stuff Cloud had said. Maybe he'd tell him they could no longer be friends. Cloud pursed his lips and tried to keep the smile tacked on.

Zack's own smile lost its natural touch. It grew forced and then shattered.

A sick feeling dropped into Cloud's stomach.

At last, Zack spoke, “Hey… so… um…" he began moving again with one slow belabored step after another, "I overheard the General say something about _your_ birthday? Um…” Zack slowed down further. 

If Cloud didn’t know any better he’d say Zack began to turn slightly crimson. "Yes?" he asked, matching his pace to Zack's.

“Could I know when it is?”

Cloud's heart thumped ever so slightly harder than before. “Next week. The eleventh.”

Zack stopped and his eyes almost bugged. “That soon?”

Cloud nodded and looked elsewhere. This hallway really _did_ feel long. They were only just past the nurse's station and still had to cross the floor to get to the hallway which led to Zack's door.

“Do you have any plans?”

Cloud shook his head and gave Zack a cautious glance. “I don’t make a big deal of it. I had cake with my family before I left.”

"Cool, so… no plans."

"No plans."

Zack laughed and began moving again with more energy. “I can’t believe you got upset over me not telling you it was my birthday, and then you drop this bombshell on me."

Smugness twitched Cloud's lips. “Well, now you know what it feels like to be told last minute.”

“Touché. Point taken.”

They gently laughed and smiled at each other.

“Hey… Cloud…”

“Hmm?”

“I want to do something nice for you on your birthday.”

Butterflies kicked up in Cloud's stomach. “You don’t have to.”

“Mm, I think I do. I kinda sprung mine on you. I made ya uncomfortable and put you in awkward positions. I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“You don't but… thank you,” Cloud said quietly.

“So, can I invite along for dinner?”

“Dinner? Where?” 

“Here. I’ll get us something nice. And cake too. You can’t have a birthday without cake, even if you already celebrated on another day.”

“Ah…” a little breathless, Cloud nodded. Was this… a _date?_ It felt like one, but _no._ It was just for his birthday. There was no point even _thinking_ about dates. He felt annoyed at himself for ever even having jumped to that thought.

Zack beamed. “Great! I’ll get it all sorted then. The eleventh, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. It’s a date.”

Like a kick to the stomach, all air left Cloud. He focused his full attention on getting to Zack's door.

Zack chuckled, thin and nervous. “How old are you?” 

"Twenty-five."

"So… you'll be turning twenty-six?"

"Yeah."

“Cool. I’m twenty-seven—no wait… twenty-eight now, I guess,” he laughed.

“I know. I saw the numbers on the cake.”

Zack gave a cheesy smile and laughed some more, but it ended in a sigh and his shoulders slumped as they finally reached his door. 

Was this awkward? It felt awkward to Cloud… for whatever reason. He reached for the door and swung it open so Zack could go in first.

Zack took a moment to get going. The shake in his arms grew increasingly noticeable. Cloud's worry elevated.

As soon as the door clicked shut Zack’s arms buckled. He fell forward, the crutches clattering to the floor. Cloud lurched into action, caught Zack around his middle, and eased them both down to the carpeted floor, as he couldn’t hold Zack up. With his shaking arms outstretched Zack pressed his palms into the floor and his fingers splayed wide. He was on all threes and breathed hard.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Cloud pulled Zack upright, pushed his shoulder under Zack’s armpit and hauled them both back up onto their feet with strained grunts. Cloud held onto Zack and provided support on the left side. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

Zack grunted and winced. “Shit. I’m so sorry, bud.” 

“It’s fine. Can you walk?”

“Yeah. Just… give me the crutches.”

“No. I’m taking you to bed.” With steely determination, Cloud turned them to face their destination. He pulled Zack’s arm firmly over his shoulders, slung his right arm around Zack’s waist, and took careful steps forward.

With every hop, Zack’s weight bore down on Cloud. Zack felt jittery like a leaf blown around in a tornado. The man muttered, “Sorry,” after every couple of puffs. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ll get us to bed.” 

It was a short distance, but it seemed to take an age. Cloud shuffled forward and dragged Zack, who pushed off with his leg. Hop. Shuffle. Hop. Shuffle.

Cloud didn’t mean to, but he practically threw Zack down—or maybe it was the combination of Cloud letting go and Zack collapsing that aided the colossal crash onto the groaning bed. 

Zack rolled onto his back and lay sprawled on the bed. He stared at the ceiling and breathed heavily. Cloud straightened and rolled his right shoulder to get the stiffness out. He wordlessly looked down at Zack, who avoided eye contact. 

Cloud turned—

“Cloud!” Zack yelped with panic.

Cloud turned back around to see Zack try to lift himself up onto his elbows. “Relax. I’m getting your crutches.”

Zack sighed out. “Thank you. I’m so sorry. Thank you.”

“You really pushed yourself to your limits today, didn’t you,” Cloud softly admonished as he fetched the metal mobility aids that lay on the ground.

Zack got out a stiff, “You know me,” between grunts.

Cloud turned around again and saw Zack lean against the pillows and the bed’s headboard with his face scrunched up and eyes shut as he adjusted himself.

Cloud huffed softly against the ache in his heart over the sight. He _did_ know him. He knew Zack would push himself too hard—had been witness to it up on the roof—hadn’t been able to stop the man or do anything to help. But he supposed being here for Zack _now_ was probably more important. That made him smile. “Was it worth it?” he asked and returned with the crutches, which he hooked onto the tray table before he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Zack opened his eyes and gave a tired quirk of his lip. “Yeah. I think so. Everyone was happy. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to worry about me while at a party.”

“Well, I worried for you, and I’m still worried for you,” Cloud grumbled.

Zack’s eyes shot wide open. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward with a grunt and tried to lift his arm to reach for Cloud but he didn’t get very far.

Cloud reached out and cupped Zack’s fist. With a soft smile, he said, “You’re really dumb.”

The strain left Zack and he relaxed against the pillows. He smiled, though it looked pained. “I know.” 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nah. Your company’s all I want.”

Heat flushed through Cloud. Zack chuckled but cut himself off with a grunt of pain as he tried to lift his left hand up. Cloud looked on with concern. He hated himself for being so useless to Zack.

“Actually… can you help me take the crown off? I’d like to keep it but it's gonna get squished if it stays on my head,” Zack said, his voice tight with strain.

“Sure.” Cloud jumped at the opportunity. He let go of Zack’s right hand and scooched closer. 

Zack pushed himself upright, off the pillows and nearly bumped his face into Cloud’s chest. He let out a small laugh. Cloud huffed and smiled and tried to ignore his nervous and heated feelings over being so close to Zack. He ran his hands into Zack’s hair and gently tugged the wreath. He didn’t want to hurt Zack—as his hair had become quite tangled by now. He also didn’t want to risk destroying the crown. 

Zack smelled like warmth and sweat. His hair was coarse and windswept. Cloud brushed it out with his fingers and he pulled the dainty blue flowers and the woven stems out ever so gently.

“Your hair’s all over the place. Half of your ponytail—”

“Wolf!” Zack interjected.

Cloud chuckled. “Look down for me—”

Zack did.

“Your _wolf’s tail’s,”_ Cloud corrected, “come undone. Maybe you’re due for a haircut?”

“You don’t like guys with long hair?” Zack asked with an amused lilt in his tone.

“I…” The throb in his stomach made Cloud’s voice falter. What was Zack asking him for? “I don’t think it has anything to do with _liking_. More like… I only really know Sephiroth to have long hair in the military. I don’t know how you’d get away with it. Your hair was a lot shorter when you came in. Your undercut’s all grown out.”

“You’re so critical of my poor hair.” Zack sniffed.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be. Your hair is nice,” Cloud mumbled. He finally freed the last part of the crown and Zack raised his head. Cloud felt relieved seeing Zack smile as he sat up straight again.

“I’m just teasing. I do need a haircut. I could probably grow my hair out a bit, but yeah, nothing like the General. I think he makes his own rules, lucky guy.” Zack grinned.

Cloud tried to smile but Zack’s comment rubbed him the wrong way. If Sephiroth had been able to make his own rules then—“Here you go,” he held up the crown in the narrow space between them.

“Thank you for making this for me.” Zack reached for and took the wreath from Cloud. He held it up in his hand.

Cloud thought back on what he knew of the flowers—what he knew of Zack knowing about them. Zack had known—had _liked_ the flowers and their symbolism—when he’d made and given this sort of a wreath to Cloud so many months ago. “Aerith said they are some of your favorite flowers.” And the uncle had confirmed it for him too.

“Yeah,” he smiled and looked at Cloud. 

“So you knew what—” He noticed Zack’s left arm shake as he held the wreath. His fingers also looked woefully cramped.

Cloud took the flower crown from Zack and put it on the tray table for safe-keeping. He turned, bent, and rested the outside of his right leg on the bed. He twisted his waist and reached across Zack’s body to pick up his left hand. He caressed clawed fingers and listened to Zack’s sharp inhales of breath.

“You’re really stiff.” Cloud rubbed circles into Zack’s palm with his thumb. Zack kept letting out pained breaths.

“I overdid it. What can I sa—eeee,” he grunted as Cloud kneaded the knuckle joints.

Cloud frowned. He got up and—

“Where’re you going?”

“Sitting over there so I can get comfortable.” He nodded to the chair and walked around to the left side of the bed. He put the side rail down, took up Zack’s hand again in both of his, and rubbed him gently: fingers, the heel of Zack’s palm, his wrist. Cloud saw how tense and hard Zack’s arm looked: veins popped, the imprint of the crutche's handle still left a slight indent on his palm and forearm where it had supported him. Cloud sighed and gave Zack a stern look while he shook his head.

Zack returned a sheepish smile and relaxed against the pillows. “That feels really nice, thank you, angel.”

Cloud’s stomach dropped at that pet name but he kept up his firm rubs which elicited moans and grunts and hisses from Zack. Cloud extended his ministrations of care up Zack's arm. He felt the rock-hard muscles in the forearm. He rubbed circles into the indent he found there and traced his fingertips over scars that looked old and new. 

Cloud wondered why Zack didn't flinch or seem to care about these scars compared to the rest which he knew lay underneath clothes. He didn't want to ask. He'd messed up so much already. He wanted to do better so stayed focused on giving Zack relief. 

He wanted Zack to feel better. He also… really liked… Cloud knew he should stop. The noises that left Zack’s throat were criminal. They stoked a rapid pulse in Cloud and churned the depth of his gut. Zack was beautiful. A beautiful idiot who pushed himself too hard and all for what? To try and make sure everyone else was okay. He was such a boneheaded, selfless, endearing… shithead.

Zack maybe—probably—most likely—had been one of those idiots Cloud had dealt with during basic training, but Zack wasn't that now. Renewed embarrassment over his earlier words accosted him. He felt like so much more needed to be said. He wanted to explain himself.

"Hey, Zack."

"Yeah?" Zack grunted with pleasure.

Cloud scowled with concentration as he rubbed the pad of his thumbs against Zack’s palm. "I'm really sorry."

"For?"

"What I said to you—all the things I said to you today. I'm such an insensitive asshole."

Zack's hand squeezed Cloud's gently as he kept up the massage. "You say what's on your mind. I like you not having a filter."

Cloud frowned. "But I should have one. All your friends and squad now think… I'm sure Barrett's going to send me death threats or something." It would be deserved, he thought and squeezed every one of Zack’s fingers individually.

Zack chuckled, rusty and low. "Barrett's a lot of bark. I'm sorry if he scared you. We're all just really close and… they don't know you. I mean, it would probably have been better if you had talked to me alone but," Zack gave a slight shrug. "It is what it is. I won’t let them think badly of you."

Affection buzzed through Cloud. “I don’t think you can control that.”

“Bullshit. I totally can.” Zack grinned. "Even if it's no longer on paper I'm still their leader. They'll do what I say they should do and think.”

Cloud smiled. He returned his focus onto Zack’s hand which he rubbed with varying intensity. How’d he get himself in this situation? In this place? Doing this with Zack— _for_ Zack? How’d he ever start caring for someone who, by all rights, should have been someone that Cloud detested and should have never given himself a chance to… like?

“Do you wanna tell me why you got so angry?” Zack asked and breathed with deep pleasure.

Why indeed. Cloud thought back, with regret. It had been a full-on day. The birthday. The crowds. Jensen. The photos. The realization that Zack had probably been a dick once upon a time, and then to have walked—inserted himself—into _that_ conversation. “Maybe this is dumb but… I really like chocobos and—I came into the middle of a conversation and didn’t have all the facts about—” He couldn’t believe that Zack could be an asshole to birds—“and I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I like chocobos too. Yeah, they smell a bit, but they are fun to ride.”

“But you _bit_ one.” Cloud looked up with intensity.

“Well, it wasn’t like a hard bite. More like—” Zack reached over with his right hand and took ahold of Cloud’s. He pulled Cloud’s hand to his mouth and bit into the fleshy part of Cloud’s thumb. It was gentle, just a pinch and pull of his skin, and then Zack dropped his hold on Cloud. “Kinda like that.”

Cloud stared, frozen with shock over the gesture. He pulled his hand back and rubbed at where Zack had—“You bit me!”

“It was gentle,” Zack whined. “Right?”

Cloud scowled but let it drop away. “Right. I still don’t think…” He shut his mouth. He should just drop it. 

Reprieve came by way of a knock on the door. Bernice walked in, with her chart and tray of needles, which looked like it no longer suffered from overcrowding. 

Cloud pushed back from the bed.

“Fair, Strife. I trust you had a nice birthday celebration.”

“Oh yeah!” Zack sat up straight and talked a mile a minute. “I made sure to pack some cake away for you and all your staff on the ward,” he said with cheer and charm and filled Bernice in on his party, and thanked her profusely for having given it the green light. 

Cloud almost felt whiplashed over the change in mood with Zack. It shouldn’t surprise him—especially after the show up on the roof compared to Zack’s total collapse once they had gotten into a private space—but it still baffled him how Zack managed to pull it off. 

He went and made himself a coffee while Zack got checked out. He also made Zack a hot chocolate, figuring he could use some sugar and sustenance, especially after Bernice remarked on the tremble in Zack’s arms that the man simply couldn’t hide because of how much he’d overextended himself.

And once dinner arrived, and they were left alone again, Cloud relaxed and the two of them watched TV while they enjoyed their drinks. Cloud thought about the feel of Zack’s tired, strained muscles, the feel of Zack against him in general, how much he enjoyed the quiet presence, how much Zack let his vulnerability show in front of him. He wasn’t sure whether to take that as a negative or positive. Being Zack’s outlet made him feel… special. Important. Like he was worth something to Zack. Cloud derived enjoyment from being there for Zack too. From spending time together, like this, or chatting. His mind drifted to what life would be like once Zack left the hospital—he fantasized about what it could be like if they remained in contact, or maybe even… dated. Cloud shifted in his chair with the buzz that thought brought to his body.

If Zack even liked him that way in any serious capacity what would it mean? Long stints of not seeing each other. Zack having to travel to various bases—Cloud didn’t believe Zack would ever see overseas deployment or combat duty again either, which saddened him a little, simply for the fact that he knew how much Zack had valued that part of his job. But even if he wasn't deployed he’d probably still be busy and away a lot of the time. Cloud knew because his parents had always been busy and away for long stretches of time as he’d grown up.

He imagined he’d talk with Zack: over the phone and online. It wouldn’t be the same. Maybe Zack would ask him to move around with him. Cloud didn’t know how he felt about that. He liked his current job—his mother’s words stung; ‘what satisfaction do you get from delivery driving? It’s beneath you. You could do so much better.’ Not her exact words, but it’s the sentiment behind the words that left a solid impact on Cloud. She was right. His current life wasn’t fulfilling. He felt like he had to always settle for what he could do because of his condition. Knowing what was wrong freed him—but also caged him.

He cast a glance over at Zack, who caught his eyes and smiled. “Yeah?”

“Your hand feels better now?”

Zack looked down at himself and clenched it open and shut. “Yeah. Thanks. Your massage helped so much.”

They exchanged smiles and Cloud turned his attention back to the TV. But not to watch. He wasn’t done ruminating yet. Zack was an incredible man. Every hardship he’d faced this year, and all the things he’d faced previously to make him who he was… Cloud’s ailments felt pallid in comparison to what Zack went through. No matter the adversity, Zack still tried to achieve his dreams and goals. A wave of affection rose and stung in Cloud’s eyes. As much as he didn’t like the military… because of his own experiences… he really wished for once that Zack would make it. For Zack to prove everyone wrong about how capable he truly was. A whole lot of admiration dumped onto Cloud. He wished he could be as strong and determined as Zack. As willful and stubborn. Cloud knew he was stubborn… but he also ran away when things felt hopeless. If he’d been in Zack’s position, he mused, he’d probably have given up living several months ago now.

"Oh, Cloud, wanna hear this funny joke Barret told me?" Zack asked as he leaned over and looked ever so eager.

Startled out of his ruminations, Cloud let out a soft, "Sure."

Zack cleared his throat and grinned. “Wait for it, you’re gonna love these.” He gave pause and started. “What do you call a woman with one leg?”

Cloud thought but shook his head.

“Eileen.” Zack grinned and said, “What is it called when an amputee does karate?” without waiting for a response, he finished, “Partial arts?”

Cloud huffed out a small laugh.

Zack’s grin grew toothier. “What do you call a bad amputation? A rip-off.” He laughed.

Cloud smiled, though he felt confused. “What’s with the jokes?”

The mirth stilled and Zack sobered a fraction. “You look sad.”

“Oh.”

“What were you thinking about? Or is it the show? I know team red messed up the quiche but it’s not that terrible. They’re still in with a chance if they can get their flambés spot on.”

Cloud smiled with more strength. It was sweet of Zack to try and cheer him up. His heart stirred over the fact that Zack noted stuff like that at all. That he cared enough to ask or to try and lighten his mood. He shook his head. “Nothing about the show. It’s just been a long day.” He couldn’t tell Zack what was in his heart. He wasn’t sure about any of it himself, or how it would be helpful to Zack. It would probably just chase the man away—and considering he was stuck in hospital he wouldn’t be able to run and would just put up with Cloud simply because he was that kind of guy to be affectionate and warm with everyone, even if he didn’t like someone.

“Yeah, it’s been pretty full-on. I’m really not upset about what you said to me today. And everyone else got over it too, trust me. They just… we’re all close and they’re a bit… protective—like I am over them. But I like you. You’re my friend. They all know that. So… don’t be sad. Chocobos like me… it’s just… Tyr and I never saw eye to eye. And maybe I did stuff to annoy the flock for cheap laughs. But I care about animals and wouldn’t hurt them. The bite was really nothing. So I just want you to know that,” Zack said with sincerity in his face and tone of voice.

Cloud nodded. It was sweet of Zack to bring it up. Cloud had tried to not think about it anymore but it definitely still weighed on him. “Sorry again that I got so… touchy. I’ve always been fond of chocobos and I just think they are great birds. I can’t stand animal cruelty. I’ve never met anyone I like who isn’t liked by chocobos. They are a great judge of character. I just…” Cloud shrugged, once again not quite sure what he was trying to say or what the point even was. But something heavy sat in his chest. He shouldn’t have gotten as upset as he had. He should never have said what he’d said.

“Hey, bud,” Zack put his hand on Cloud’s arm. “I’ve got more jokes if you want to hear them.”

Cloud chuckled softly. “No thanks. I think I need to get some sleep though.”

“Oh, sure. You can stay the night with me if you’d like.” Zack scooched over and created some space in his bed.

The offer was enticing. _Very_ enticing. He longed for Zack’s hugs and cuddles. He felt abysmally alone all of a sudden. Having seen Sephiroth today hadn’t helped. Having his perceptions of Zack so drastically altered in the blink of an eye left him raw and open to his sullen mood. He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer. I’m okay though. I’ll be okay getting home.”

Zack hummed and wore a forced-looking smile. 

Cloud made to move out of the chair but Zack stopped him with his words, “Oh before you go… can you tell me what your favorite song is?”

“Oh. Uh… why?”

“I’d like to learn something and play it for you when you come over for your birthday dinner.”

Cloud gulped and like a car battery receiving a jolt his heart started up. The _date_ they had discussed earlier in the hallway… Zack was actually _serious?_ Cloud didn’t have a stomach anymore. It was just a butterfly house. “I… don’t really have a favorite song.”

Zack scrunched up his face, confused. “What? You don’t? Why not?”

He couldn’t think straight, too put on the spot. He shrugged. “What about you? What’s yours?”

Zack opened his mouth wide to say something and then completely deflated. “I… don’t have one either.”

They chuckled and it eased some of the tension Cloud felt. “Well…" He willed his brain to start working again. "I do like Foo Fighters and Red Hot Chilli Peppers. I don’t listen to much new stuff, other than what’s on the radio while I’m driving.”

“Okay, well… that gives me at least something to go off of. I'll learn something for you.”

“Are you sure? You only have a week.”

Zack blew a raspberry and waved his hand about. “A week’s plenty of time. Weren’t you impressed with my playing up on the roof?”

_“Well,”_ Cloud drawled and held the note.

Zack began to cackle and Cloud laughed too.

“But in seriousness,” Cloud nailed Zack with a stare, “You should keep working on it.”

Zack snorted. “Got it, boss. I’ll see what I can _passably_ learn by next week.”

Cloud tittered and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’d really like to hear you play something you like though. Something from your heart, at some point. Doesn’t have to be next week.”

“From the heart?”

Cloud hummed and felt embarrassed over his own words. “An inside song, I guess.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said it that way. Something about the idea of Zack singing about how he felt… His chest squeezed around his heart. He really was tired and losing it.

Zack saluted. “Got it. Understood.”

“Where’d you get the guitar from anyway?” Cloud asked so he could distract himself from the way his heart raced.

“Linsey let me borrow her good guitar.”

“She's your music therapist, right?"

"Right."

Cloud hummed. "The _good_ guitar, huh? Big responsibility.”

“The biggest.”

They grinned at each other. Cloud had really missed Zack and how easy they got along—how much Zack made him smile and laugh, even when he had been in a sulky mood moments before. Zack just made things easier. And yet—Cloud erupted in a yawn.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep over?”

It was such a warm invite. So tempting. But he didn’t trust himself right now. Didn’t trust his body not to betray him if he cozied up right against Zack. He needed to get away and think and try and reason himself out of his flaring feelings. “No. I really do need to take the van back to the shop.”

“Ah, okay.” Zack didn’t try for a smile that time.

Cloud felt pained. Zack looked like he needed a hug and honestly, Cloud really needed one too. He got off the chair, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled Zack into a hug. A quiet gasp fell out of Zack. His arms wound around Cloud in an instant.

They held each other tight. Cloud thought Zack smelled so incredibly good, even after a day out in the sun. Or _because_ of it? Zack seemed to have recovered some of his strength and held on with increasing strength. Drowsiness overcame Cloud. He stifled his yawn. He resisted the urge to push Zack down and curl up against him in bed and fall asleep. He let go of Zack and felt Zack drop his hold moments later.

They exchanged wearisome smiles. “I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll definitely come back for that birthday dinner you want to throw me,” Cloud said to try and inject a smile back into Zack’s face. 

“Dinner date.” Zack smiled.

Cloud’s lips twitched. His stomach plummeted. He found no words. It was just a form of expression. Nothing more. He got up and left the room after exchanging soft ‘goodnights’. 

He hurried down the hall, hunched in on himself as he passed _Private First Class_ _Asshole_ Jensen, who barely kept the eye-roll in check and made some crude remark about the time. Cloud tried not to dwell on it but he replayed his personal history with Jensen and his formative military years in his head well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Forget-me-not' was my second work title for this fic before I changed it to what it currently is. It was very apt in regards to the disability angle and I read somewhere that amputee groups use the flower. But I still like the final title the best.
> 
> Songs for this chapter -  
> [ Wonderwall by Oasis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hzrDeceEKc)  
> [ Army of one by Coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE6vs4jqXWc)  
> The slow-burn got me so good at this stage that I had a lapse of restraint and wrote an alternate scene where Cloud and Zack actually fuck. You can find the end result of my weakness [HERE](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/Kintsukuroi-ch13-massage) on my Tumblr.
> 
> Also a big ‘thank you’ to [ Capt. BA](https://twitter.com/CaptBA1) for the fanart for this chapter of this story and for being such a valuable sounding board. You can find the art on her twitter [HERE.](https://twitter.com/CaptBA1/status/1340446707188948993?s=20) Show her some love 👏👏👏
> 
> I commissioned [shaky-mayhemm](https://shaky-mayhemm.tumblr.com/) to draw bazooka!Zack. Her art is magnificent. Please check her out 🙏
> 
> I hope you all have a good holiday period. Next chapter will be up in another two weeks.


	14. Delivery, for Mr. Cloud Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Cloud’s birthday and he realizes just how bad he actually wants Zack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a lovely and safe New Year's! May your 2021 be better than 2020!
> 
> We have a song for this chapter. If you find that cringe you better brace yourselves. This is not the last time in this fic that it will happen 🤭🤭🤭
> 
> Do you think they'll get their act together? Let's go find out!

Cloud stood by his coffee machine and listened to the mechanical whirs and swooshes it produced; a symphony of joy to his ears. He watched the steam rise, which carried with it the delicious scent of his drug of choice. The mere prospect of the liquid on his tongue roused him into a slightly more acute state of wakefulness.

He scratched at himself, yawned loudly, rubbed his face, and swept back his mussy hair. He probably needed a cut soon. The doorbell rang. Cloud jumped. He shuffled over and opened it. A man stood outside. He held a planter box with a large red bow tied around it and various greenery inside. 

“Delivery, for Mr. Cloud Strife.” 

Cloud squinted, confused. He didn’t get very many deliveries. Especially not plants. “Yeah, that’s me,” he muttered and was handed a delivery slip to sign, which he did. He took the box from the man dressed in a uniform Cloud recognized as being from a rival delivery company and closed the door. He examined the planter box like it could possibly contain a bomb. But all that stood inside was a lovely succulent garden composed of many different shaped and colored flora. In the middle of it, in a separate little pot, sat a cluster of forget-me-nots. Cloud smiled. Zack instantly sprang to mind.

He walked the box over to his dining table, gently placed it down, and pushed it against the wall. He went to add milk and sugar to his coffee while he mentally cycled through who possibly could have sent him the flowers. His thoughts returned to Zack over and over again which stirred a flutter in his heart and a hope of 'if only.' 

He came back to the dining table, where he made himself comfortable. He blew on the steaming brew and savored the aromatic scent whilst he trailed his gaze over the plants inside the box. He reached out to touch the petals and let his fingertips meander to the attached card. There was a beagle on the cover which made Cloud huff with amusement for a fraction of a second before his heart revved up. Maybe this really _was_ from… He sat his mug down and opened the card— 

_Happy Birthday, Cloud._  
  
_Wishing you all the best, because the best is what you deserve. I look forward to seeing you tonight at 1830. I’ll show you something special._  
  


_With love, Zack._

_Zack!_

Cloud’s palms sweat. The reminder that it was his birthday today was eclipsed by the tingle which raced through his body. He gulped and felt hot all over. Was he blushing? He touched his cheek—hot. He dropped his hand away from the card and cast his eyes onto his dormant TV whilst he grabbed his mug. A tremble ran through his body and he hadn’t even finished his coffee yet. He sipped the hot beverage. _Something special_ the card said. _With love_ the card said. 

They had a _date_ tonight. Dinner. It was just dinner. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was an _actual_ date? Zack had called it a date—but it was just a turn of phrase—a turn of phrase Zack had corrected him on when he'd called it dinner. A prickly soft heat spread through his body, right down into his toes, and he struggled against his smile. 

_With love_. His gaze returned to the card. He _really_ liked Zack. Liked him enough to not feel repulsed or recoil from any of the affections Zack showered him with. Cloud _really_ liked how warm Zack was. He didn’t know when it had all changed—had it ever changed? Or had he just stopped fighting his enjoyment? Zack made him feel so good—when they sat around, had fun, and shared their experiences with each other. His guard had well and truly slipped somewhere along the way. He liked Zack’s comforting presence in his life. That in itself was weird. Wanting someone like Zack around—someone with a military history… and future. He frowned. Some of the pleasant delight died. 

The military was the sticking point which he couldn’t get past and didn’t know how to navigate. So much of his identity felt entangled with his rejection of the institution. And yet here was Sergeant Zack Fair: a beacon of everything he liked and didn’t like, all in a neat, joyful, and incredibly handsome package. Zack’s laughter, his tears… the way Zack always held on to him, needed him, appreciated him—the heat inside of Cloud rose. 

_With love._ Cloud hid his smile in his hand. Maybe Zack did. Maybe it went beyond general friendliness. Or maybe it was _exactly_ just that. Zack was amicable and warm because that was his nature. Zack was stuck in hospital and had looked for _distractions_. Cloud’s birthday was certainly that. Cloud himself was a distraction. He was just company.

Did he like that thought? No. Did it make him angry? …Not anymore. Zack also served a purpose for him: he was company, a… distraction. Could there ever be anything between them? Highly improbable. Zack had a future to strive for. A future that didn’t agree with him. And as for his own future… he didn’t feel like he had much of one. Nothing grandiose. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to make anyone proud of. Aside from being a distraction what did Zack even see in him?

What could he possibly offer Zack? The man wouldn’t need him anymore once he left the hospital. He’d have his friends—which he had in spades—he’d have his job in some capacity. He’d travel around… Cloud stopped his spiraling thoughts. He’d mulled this stuff over before—what a future with _Sergeant_ Zack Fair could possibly entail. He had no answers, nor any fresh insights. He knew that much. So why did he dwell? Why did he hope? Why even dream…

He looked at the card again. _With love._ Cloud had only ever loved Sephiroth in _that_ way. Had it ever even _been_ love? Cloud had always felt like he had needed to impress Sephiroth to feel worthy of his time and affections—to prove himself worthy. He had failed. His body had failed. Sephiroth would never have been happy with him as he was. Sephiroth was too high up—that’s why he had called the idea of being with Cloud _humiliating_. 

Cloud sipped his drink and furrowed his brows. Would he humiliate Zack if they ever got together? If he couldn’t keep his mouth shut the answer would definitely be _yes._ Was there a future for them together? Cloud took a deep breath. He read too much into everything. This was just a birthday dinner; a way for Zack to show his appreciation. It was nice. The boxed flowers were nice. Sephiroth had never given him flowers and they’d known each other for all of Cloud’s adult life and then some. Sephiroth wasn’t like Zack. Wasn’t as friendly, or as easy to talk to in the sense that Cloud had never felt comfortable to talk about random, meaningless things with him. Everything felt like it had to be loaded with insight or he'd waste Sephiroth's time. But Zack shot the breeze with him and it was always nice.

He shook his head and drank more coffee. He’d found himself comparing the two men so much lately. It didn’t do him much good. Half the time, though, he couldn’t get over the fact that he was okay to think about Zack in terms of… _love._ The idea still scared him, but it was closer to being in awe of something large and powerful… maybe humbling, instead of leaving him with a sense of terror that he might be swallow whole. He had to concede that he was okay with the idea of liking Zack Fair. Not so much _Sergeant_ Zack Fair, but even that was… okay… sort of. It was okay because nothing would happen. Nothing would come of it. Cloud wouldn’t let it happen—wouldn’t push it. He was here as a _convenient distraction._ That was his job now and he planned to see it through. He had a friend to care for.

He huffed. _With love_. They were friends, so why couldn’t he stop coming back to that line? It didn’t matter. Zack would leave the hospital soon. It was only a matter of time. Whatever possibilities there might be all depended on what happened after that. And there were so many possibilities that Cloud couldn’t name or foresee, so it wasn’t worth thinking about, and besides, all options were out of his control. Zack would choose what was important to him, like Sephiroth had, and Cloud would learn to be okay with the outcomes of that and go back to his… life. Such as it was.

He blinked away the tears in his eyes. He gulped down the remains of his coffee to drown the butterflies in his stomach. He’d dawdled long enough in the quagmire of his ruminations; he needed to get to work.

Cloud washed his cup, went to his bedroom, and got changed—though he stopped and opened the bottom drawer. He slammed it shut again. Zack’s shirt was still there. It was _definitely_ too late to return it now. He’d donate it to charity.It didn’t even smell like Zack anymore so what was the point of keeping it? He had to walk out of his room to get away from that thought. But as he went into the living room he instantly fixated on the planter box. _With love._ Cloud hurried over to the bathroom to fix his hair and get himself ready for work.

Yet, at work, while he mindlessly drove, his thoughts returned to the plants and inevitably Zack: to their dinner that evening, the message on the card, how sweet and thoughtful it had been, especially since too many flowers made him sneeze. He thought of how much he appreciated the fact that the delivery hadn’t come from Aerith, and the plants not delivered by the delivery company he worked for. Cloud liked Zack keeping things low-key. Not that there was _anything_ to keep low-key, he rebuked himself. They were friends until he heard something to the contrary, that was all. Yet, oh, how he smiled.

* * *

Cloud fussed over his appearance; he tried to get his hair to sit flat, but it looked dumb so he let it go back into its unruly spikes. Maybe he should have had a haircut before he’d come home that afternoon. He grumbled and changed out of six different shirts because they were too tight, too baggy, not the right color, unironed, too casual, too formal. He ended up dressed in the first one he’d tried on: a simple white button-down dress shirt. Yes, it was a little tight, as he’d gained weight since he'd started this job, but he didn’t look like a stuffed sausage. Maybe it even made him look a little buff and muscular? Not that it mattered. He didn’t know why he put in any effort. It was just a birthday dinner… in a hospital… a… d—he chased that word out of his vocabulary, rolled up his sleeves to the elbows, and pulled on black skinny jeans.

Without further thought, he headed out.

* * *

Nervousness billowed as he entered the hospital. Was his hair all right after that bike ride? He teased and mussed the ends of his locks with his fingers as he walked. Was he overdressed? Should he have brought something? No. Dumb. This was _his_ birthday dinner. What if others were there? Cloud stopped in his tracks, apprehensive over that thought despite the fact that he should probably _hope_ that it was an actual party and not a d—

“If it isn’t _Strife_ , all dressed up.”

Cloud roused out of his spiraling thoughts to see, _“Jensen.”_ He clenched his jaw. 

The blond man dressed in the crisp military uniform stomped over to him, but kept his distance like Cloud was infectious. “You know he’s not supposed to get visitors after sixteen-hundred.”

“He invited me. You can ask him.”

 _“Of course_ he did,” Jensen muttered and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a suck-up. Connie would never tell you to your face, but lucky for you, I’m not as nice as him.”

Cloud rolled his eyes and continued toward Zack’s door. 

Jensen’s heavy footsteps followed, “How ‘bout you stand on your own two feet, you fleabag, instead of riding others to feel big.”

Cloud rounded on the other man, bared his teeth, and grabbed the scruff of Jensen’s uniform. Barely a hair's breadth stood between them. Cloud’s fist sat poised high, ready to strike. 

The vile man smirked. “Go on. Punch me. It’ll be my _absolute_ _pleasure_ to kick you the fuck out of here and have you never come back. The Sergeant wouldn't even miss you.”

Cloud pushed the bastard away and blew out a hefty breath. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’re probably hoping another one of my punches will bend your ugly-as-fuck nose back into shape, huh,” he spat with sick glee and turned on his heels to march to Zack’s door. He failed to knock in his hurry to get away from the piece of shit in the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him as he stomped into the room.

“Hey, bud… what’s wrong?” Zack asked, full of concern.

Cloud grew even more agitated. “I need a minute,” he growled and headed for the bathroom before he lashed out and broke something.

He flicked on the light and paced back and forth a couple of laps of the tiny bathroom. He puffed his cheeks and the movement got some of the murderous intent out of him. Jensen was such a fucking toolbag. Always had been, always would be. Him and his posse. Cloud opened and closed his fists. He itched to get into a scuffle with Private can't-mind-his-own-business Jensen. But the trouble it would cause! Trouble he didn't want to have directed at himself or Zack, especially considering how close Zack had been to getting moved to a different hospital or area entirely. 

He grabbed onto the sink where he stood and glared at himself. Had he done something wrong? _No!_ Of course not. He was just the target of harassment. His past didn’t leave him. He couldn’t escape it. Why was he even here? The solid mass of outrage which sat in his chest softened a fraction. He was here because Zack had asked him to be here. Zack was probably worried right now. Cloud huffed and hated the idea of ruining Zack’s evening. His own was already tarnished to all hell, but he didn’t want the same fate to befall Zack. The guy had enough on his plate to deal with already.

Cloud ran the cold water and splashed his face to try and get his capillaries to close up again. He glared at himself through the mirror as he dabbed his skin dry with a towel. He tried on a smile to see if he could hide his disdain. He grimaced. This was going to be hopeless, but the longer he spent in here the worse it would be to explain away to Zack. He couldn’t get past how much he hated being here though. 

He wanted to leave. Bolt out the door. Never come back. Get Jensen kicked off security duty, though… the man probably _hated_ being Zack's security detail and let it out on Cloud. The possibility that Jensen suffered brought a sick and genuine smile to his face. Yet it only provided a thin veil of relief. If he stayed here what would Jensen think? What _talk_ would it perpetuate? Why couldn’t he _escape_ these things happening to him?

He shook his head clear. He couldn’t do anything now. If he canceled on Zack this very moment he’d upset Zack and would hate himself more for it. 

Maybe he could ask Zack to leave with him? They could go somewhere… Back to his place. It might look terrible though like they were going out to… Cloud huffed. This felt like a Zero-sum game. He didn't want to play.

He dried off and went back outside.

Zack hopped up from his bed and clicked over to Cloud on his crutches. 

Despite Cloud's frazzled state he still noticed how _fine_ Zack looked in his button-down indigo shirt and his black pants. 

"You okay, bud?" Zack asked with soft concern.

While Zack's care eased something tight inside of Cloud, he also felt bad to cause Zack any sort of worry. "Yeah. Sorry." He flashed the smile he’d practiced earlier and hoped it looked convincing. 

He took a step back from Zack. He felt too hot. Zack's body also felt too hot with how close he stood. Cloud tilted his head and looked past Zack to see the small table which stood by the window with two chairs tucked in opposite ends of each other. He did a double-take at the tablecloth spread on the surface of the table. A storm of nerves erupted. “Are we sitting over there?”

Zack gave Cloud a wary sort of look and hummed with dissatisfaction but thankfully dropped the topic. “Yeah. I got Lionel to help set it up. Poor guy has nothing else to do.” 

A terrible sensation dropped into Cloud's stomach.

“Our meals arrived five minutes ago—I ordered out. If it’s cold we can zap it in the microwave.” Zack nodded toward the table. “Please, sit down.”

“Okay.” Cloud walked over stiff as a board and his heart jumped into his throat when he closed in on the table and saw how neatly laid out it was: lace tablecloth, good cutlery, porcelain plates, and a sprig of some type of flower placed in the middle of the table. All that was missing were the candles. 

Cloud’s appetite vanished. He thought he'd prepared for this possibility but… he really hadn't.

“Here, let me,” Zack hurried over and stopped Cloud before he sat down. Zack came around with only one crutch and pulled out the chair with a smile.

Cloud attempted his best impression of a smile and sat down heavily. “You really shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” Zack stuck his finger to Cloud’s lips. It startled Cloud into silence.

Zack looked down at Cloud, and also looked startled for a moment before he pulled his hand away and gave a sheepish grin. “I, um… let me do this.”

Cloud _knew_ he was making mountains out of molehills in his head. He knew his body overreacted with how his heart pounded and his palms sweat. This knowledge didn't help him in the slightest. “Okay,” he simply murmured, utterly relieved that his voice still worked. “Not a baby.”

Zack grinned. “Exzacky.” 

Cloud squinted up at the other man. Had he heard right?

Zack laughed and abruptly stopped. With a tilt of his head, he said, “What?”

“Did you just… use your name…” 

Zack cocked his brows and smirked. "What if I did?"

Cloud shook his head and huffed out a chuckle. “You’re… too much.”

“Too much in a good way, right?” An eager grin shone on Zack's face.

Cloud took a deep breath and could hardly believe he was about to say—“Exzackly.”

Zack beamed with all his teeth on display for a moment before he turned away.

Cloud breathed out the nervous flutters in his chest. The press of Zack's finger to his lips ghosted on him as he watched Zack make his way back to the kitchenette to check the food. Zack left behind his right crutch as he picked up a plate. Very slowly, he walked it over to the table. Cloud resisted the half a dozen surging urges to get up and help out. He only permitted himself to reach out and grab the plate once Zack made it to the table, and took it with a, “Thank you.”

Zack smiled. He looked so proud of himself. It made Cloud happy and he watched Zack do it all again with his own plate.

They sat opposite each other and ate their meal together. A million thoughts raced through Cloud’s head. Zack was doing this to be nice—as a _thank you_ —plus, it was also Cloud’s birthday. That’s why this felt extra special. He couldn’t and _shouldn’t_ put any extra meaning onto it. He focused on just enjoying himself and the company. “Thank you for the plants and the card. This is really nice too.”

“You’re so welcome. You like the food?”

Cloud looked down at the chicken and salad. “Yeah. It’s way better than hospital food.”

Zack giggled. “Francis looked so sad when I sent him away with the meal from the kitchen.”

“You won’t get into trouble, will you?”

“Nah,” Zack waved his fork. “He understood completely.” He winked.

They ate their meals and kept the conversation light—thankfully Zack did most of the taking: hospital-related things, his recovery, anecdotes from his past. Cloud listened, and responded, and laughed—he put it on as best he could anyway as not to sound hollow or fake. He tried to keep his attention on the topics at hand instead of… elsewhere. But he couldn’t get comfortable. Not completely. The meal didn’t _feel_ casual. Zack had dressed up. He looked very handsome in his clothes and the way he’d gelled his hair back. It made Cloud feel _a bit_ better about having dressed up as well, but he also felt the aura of Jensen outside _somewhere,_ lurking. _Judging. Feeding_ the rumor mill. This was just like when he'd been asked to join Sephiroth for a meal once; something completely unheard of happening. Everyone had been so jealous. Cloud had felt so special. It had bitten him in the ass really hard when he'd retired to his barracks—he'd never told Sephiroth the full extent of what he'd been subjected to. The man would have stepped in and made everything _even worse._

Cloud laughed because Zack laughed. He tried to refocus on the conversation but struggled. He wasn’t comfortable with Zack _doting_ on him; constantly asking if he needed a refreshment or a refill, if he needed more food, or if he wanted to share Zack’s portion of the garlic bread he’d brought over. 

The longer he played at… whatever this was, the worse he felt. He couldn't figure out if Zack noticed. The man just kept talking, at an increasing rate about more seemingly random and far-flung anecdotes about growing up in the tropics. 

When it was time to clear the dishes, Cloud offered to do it. Zack declined, took all the dishes in one go as some show of rebellion, and ended up dropping and breaking everything before making it to the sink.

Jensen stormed in like the man had nothing better to do than stand outside the door all that time, listening in, which made Cloud grit his teeth. The disgusted look he got from the _Pushy Nosy Private First Class Asshole_ soured Cloud further and he _really_ wanted to leave—after the mess was cleaned up.

Zack apologized profusely as Cloud swept up the shards and disposed of them.

“I think I’ve got paper plates we can use for the cake.”

“I think I’d rather just go home. I’m… getting tired.”

Zack got up from the chair. "Hey, Cloud… I don't wanna be nosy but, what actually happened? You haven't really been yourself since you got here." He worked his way over to where Cloud stood with the dark rubbish bag held aloft in his hands.

 _Shit._ Cloud's chest tightened around his heart. He was so terrible at faking things. He also really didn't want to talk about it. "No. Look, everything's… alright. I just had a stressful time getting here." It wasn't a lie. "I really appreciate the dinner and effort you went to for me. I'm sorry I'm ruining things.”

"Hey, bud, you're not ruining anything. But something's ruined your mood. You can tell me if it helps. Maybe we can laugh about it." Zack shifted the grip on his crutch and reached for Cloud’s fisted hand and squeezed him. "If I did anything to make you unc—”

"No," Cloud let out with an added resigned sigh. He dropped his arms and the shards of porcelain clinked inside the bag as it hit the floor. He felt so bad. "It's not you. It's nothing you've done. I was looking forward to dinner with you, but Jensen ruined it for me."

"Lionel Jensen?"

Cloud nodded and hummed as he stared at the floor.

"What did he do?" Zack said with a razor-sharp edge in his voice.

Cloud jumped and looked up. He leaned and took half a step back. A dark and dangerous expression sat on Zack's brows and his lips curled into a displeased frown. 

"N-nothing," Cloud said.

"But you just said—"

"I shouldn't have said anything," Cloud spoke over Zack and pushed past him, but he didn’t really have anywhere to escape to. He slowly went to the kitchenette where he tied up the rubbish bag and stowed it beneath the sink next to the trash can. 

“I’d like you to talk to me. Whatever it is, it's bothering you, so it's bothering me too.” Zack said, clicking as he came up behind Cloud.

Cloud stared at the sink. He couldn't get out of talking about it now; he'd already opened the door for the discussion to take place. Cloud felt mad at himself for having said anything at all. He also felt a slight flutter in his abdomen over Zack being so concerned.

He breathed out an audible huff and went to sit on the bed, with his elbows on his knees and shoulders slumped. His thoughts raced around—Jensen—Sephiroth—the past. He tried to find order in the chaos. What should he tell Zack? How _much_ should he tell Zack? Why wasn't Zack sitting next to him asking him questions? Cloud looked up and over at the other man, who had his back turned and was busy with something at the kitchen counter. 

Zack looked so at ease. So natural, despite standing on one leg, with the pants leg on the left rolled up neatly. He shifted about—his arm flung out occasionally to steady himself but he was doing good and he even began to hum a quiet song to himself as he worked. 

Cloud smiled with genuine relief but then his thoughts returned to his predicament and he scowled at the floor.

 _" **♪** Happy birthday to you,"_ Zack turned around and held two plates with cakes and forks precariously stacked in one hand. _" **♪** Happy birthday to you,"_ he sang as he approached slowly, supporting himself on one crutch. His voice rang low and his gaze darted between the plates and Cloud. _" **♪** Happy birthday, my dearest Clo-ud, happy birthday to you!"_ He finished with a flourish and a smile and held out his hand and offered the plates.

Zack was so amazing. And warm. And sweet. Cloud's cheeks burned.

"Sorry I don't have candles. I don't really want to set off the sprinkler alarm. I once tried to help a buddy of mine lighten up since he was having a rough time in hospital after a bit of shrapnel pierced his thigh so I showed him some party tricks I learned using a lighter—ah… it was a very bad idea so… again, sorry about no candles. But I hope it's still special."

"It is. Thank you. You're amazing. Thank you." Cloud took a plate. His sour mood shattered due to Zack's endearing qualities. 

"I can be pretty amazing, yeah." Zack chuckled and sat down next to Cloud with a low grunt. He set down the crutch and fiddled with it to get it to stay in place whilst he held onto his plate with the other hand.

"Need help?"

"Nah, I'm good." Zack jammed the crutch between the bed frame and mattress and turned to grin at Cloud. "So tell me what ails you, my friend." He leaned and bumped his shoulder against Cloud before he sat upright again. "My nan always said there's no problem that can't be solved over a slice of cake, especially delicious cake." He got stuck into the chocolate sponge cake. "This one's pretty delicious," he said around a mouthful of it and smiled at Cloud with chocolate frosting all over his lips.

Cloud chuckled and turned his attention onto his slice. He poked it with the fork.

"Eat. It'll make you feel better."

Cloud huffed and smiled slightly. Zack's company was the thing that _really_ made him feel better. But even then… or because of it… Cloud sighed. "Cake can't fix this."

Zack shot him an encouraging look and kept eating silently with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Cloud smiled a little harder, but it dropped pretty quick. He started on the cake, a morsel at a time. "It's pretty good. Thanks."

Zack smiled over at him.

"So…" Cloud sighed. He wasn't sure where to start or how much he was willing to share, so bought his time by eating more cake.

Zack stayed quiet and scraped his fork against the plate.

Cloud’s chest felt heavy. "Being here… feels like being at basic training all over again."

"Hm?"

"People bitching and spreading rumors and being all up in everyone's business,” he tried to clarify.

"Yeah? Really?"

Cloud nodded and pushed bits of his cake around the plate before taking another mouthful. He chewed thoughtfully. His heart raced. His palms felt sweaty. Was he going to tell Zack about… _Sephiroth?_ Everyone always made unsubstantiated claims. If he admitted to his feelings—to _anyone_ —it almost felt like it would validate all the shit that had ever been thrown at him. He grit his teeth.

"When I went to basic, I didn't have an easy time of it. I think I told you?"

"Yeah, you said you couldn't keep up with the stress of it."

The heaviness in his stomach rose and constricted his chest. "It wasn't just the physical side of it. It was also a lot of the social side. Seph—" Cloud's voice faltered. He gripped the paper plate too tight, took a breath, and tried again, "Sephiroth stayed on base to help look after me. No one understood why a General, let alone _him_ , would take an interest in me." 

Cloud definitely felt hot. He couldn't look at Zack. He stared through his plate with the half-eaten cake on it, toward the floor. "It started all the rumors, and because I kept failing at basic training I was an easy target for a lot of shit. Y’know, people questioning why I was there. How I’d ever made it that far. Not really directly to my face, but I still heard it."

"I'm so sorry, buddy," Zack said quietly and laid a hand on Cloud's back.

The touch jolted through Cloud. An urge to rest his head in Zack's lap and fall asleep rose inside himself. He wanted to forget his feelings. He sat up straight. Zack's hand fell away.

"Lionel Jensen. He… started most of the shit with me. Nobody said things to my face _except_ for him. And he had supporters, so he got louder and louder. It’s like he took personal offense that I even existed and… he really rubbed me the wrong way. He doesn't like that the two of us”—he glanced at Zack—"are friends. He keeps sniping at me like we're on the fucking playground." He clenched his fists and crinkled the plate between his hands. 

He looked at Zack's empty plate and held out his hand. Zack gave him the plate and Cloud walked to the trash to dispose of the waste.

"I can ask to have him removed," Zack piped up.

Cloud whirled around, "Please don't! It's going to make things so much worse for me. I…” He sighed. “I kept getting into scuffles with him—and others. I tried to get them to back off. I… broke Jensen’s nose one time—”

“Whoa, you broke the guy’s nose?”

“Yeah.”

Zack laughed. “Buddy. Wow. You’re a badass. No wonder he’s got such an ugly-assed face.”

Cloud smiled and even laughed a little. He reeled from Zack’s compliment, but it didn’t take away from the discomfort of knowing one of the biggest banes of his existence was right outside. “He had to go to hospital. Sephiroth covered for me, though I still got into shit and I was put on probation and mess hall duties for a month. And when Jensen came back—everything got way worse. Sephiroth stepping in for me made everything worse. And that’s why I really don’t want you to say or do anything, okay? I don’t want this stuff to keep happening to me. Just let it blow over, got it?”

“But—”

“After this is all done,” Cloud firmly interjected, “I won't see him ever again and he'll forget about me. But if _Sergeant_ Zack Fair says something, he'll remember and it will reinforce his views and maybe even reflect badly on my family and extended family. I don't want that."

"Oh, shit. Yeah. Sorry. I didn't think of that. I'm not used to having… a title with any real influence." Zack grimaced at the floor before he turned an equally-concerned expression onto Cloud. "I'm sorry for putting you through so much. I'm sorry you have to come here."

Cloud sighed, walked back to the bed slowly, and sat down. "This is nothing compared to what you've been through. I'm sorry, Zack. I'm being selfish and dumb worrying about stupid shit like what people think of me."

"No. It's not stupid. I worry about what people think of me, too. It's why I put up the bravado. Why I go around with one crutch when I should really be in a wheelchair when I’m out for long stints of time." Zack exhaled a tired-sounding huff of air.

"Is that why you broke all the plates?" Cloud smiled softly to dampen the blow.

Zack chuckled. "I uh… yeah. Maybe a little bit. I can do things, yanno? I… I want you to know I can do things."

Cloud felt a squeeze in his chest. "I know you can do things. I know you aren't a baby. I don't think… I don't think I'd be here if I didn't believe you could get better from all this. I want to see you get better from all this. I'm rooting for you." He felt the heat stoke inside his chest and seep up to his cheeks. "I'm rooting for you to get better and get out of this hellhole."

"Thanks, bud." 

They smiled at each other weakly and their eyes dropped away from each other. The room was still except for the soft hum of the central air that blew in from the vents.

“I don’t think he’ll ever forget you, yanno.”

“Huh?”

“Jensen. He probably thinks of you every time he sees his face.” Zack’s smile grew, which brought along Cloud’s own one.

“Yeah… it was fun punching his lights out,” Cloud admitted.

Zack tittered. “Did you get in _a lot_ a lot of fights?”

Cloud shrugged. “Here and there. I think… I felt like I had to keep proving myself to others. But I think it was probably more to myself. And then when I got diagnosed with adrenal fatigue I…” He sighed heavily. “A part of me…” He felt it then, the disappointment, anger—rage. The inherent cruelty of the world; how it had shattered him. He thought he’d made peace with it. Some days he really had, other days… maybe not. Seeing Jensen’s smug face riled him up—made him want to fight. Fight what? Himself. His failings. Fight the people who looked at him differently and treated him like that as well.

Cloud felt Zack’s stare. He dislodged the welling thoughts. “I gave up. I mean—I did still try. I think I tried even harder than before, but I also felt worse than before. Sephiroth and my mom… tried to keep me in the military but…” he shook his head. He’d felt so uncomfortable to receive help. Had hated the idea of being spoon-fed possible positions. He had probably hated that the most. He’d run away. Sephiroth’s words blasted him like a hurricane. And… if Sephiroth was right then maybe… his mother was too…. He swallowed the thick lump of discomfort. “I never finished basic training. I was able to stay around for another round, with new recruits, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I couldn’t go through with it again. I didn’t want to. It felt better to move on. So I get it, y’know. The thing with your leg. Maybe not completely—I know what you and I’ve gone through is different,” he said with haste, “but… I get being judged.”

Zack smiled softly. “I know. I get it. Things happened to us and it makes living life harder.”

Cloud nodded. “We just gotta keep living. Things get easier.”

“Things get easier,” Zack echoed with a morose cadence.

A pensive mood sat in the room. Cloud reprimanded himself for bringing the tone of the evening crashing down.

"Can I ask you something?" Zack said.

"What would you like to know?" His stomach churned.

"Are you… and General Sephiroth… _close?"_

Cloud drew in on himself. "Why do you want to know?"

"Mm… just curious, I guess. And a bit confused? When I saw you on the roof with him last week you seemed close… and the way you spoke to him when he was here investigating… you never really explained. You seem tense when he's around, but also really ballsy." He shrugged. "I'm just… curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," Cloud murmured.

Zack gave him a look. "Hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said in a hasty, hushed tone.

Cloud swallowed and kept his gaze low and trained on his fingers, which he twitched and rubbed together. Was there any point in hiding it?

"Sephiroth…" the heaviness inside increased tenfold. A nervous buzz made him queasy, "used to be important to me. I used to like him."

"Oh," seeped out of Zack, making Cloud look over at him. There was no discernable expression on Zack’s face as he said, "You don't anymore?"

With a heavy sigh, Cloud went on, "It's complicated. We have a long history. I think I told you that he's a friend of the family?"

Zack shook his head. "You said he worked with your mom. Nothing about… family friend. I mean, I figured since your mom is a General that _that's_ how you knew him. Like, maybe they hung out together… if that’s something Generals do. I'm not really sure."

Cloud hummed and wrung his hands together. "I don't know about _hanging out together_ , but he certainly was around a lot. He used to attend family barbecues and even came around at Christmas pretty regularly as I was growing up. My brother and I called him Uncle. He doesn't have any remaining living relatives so I think mom adopted him in a way, if an adult can adopt another adult. Plus, because he was the youngest ever General she sort of mentored him too."

"Wow. What's he like in person? I've only met him a couple of times, and… well, more now that I've gone through this stuff with the hospital, but… he seems really cold. Like… does he ever laugh?" Zack asked with utmost sincerity. "Don't get me wrong, I admire the guy. He’s got _amazing_ hair. He's like my hero in a way, and I'd love to be like him one day, but… not if he can't take a joke."

Cloud smiled and huffed out a small laugh. "Sephiroth… yeah. His hair _is_ amazing.”

“How does he keep it so glossy?”

“Lots of shampoo. It takes like a whole bottle for just one wash.” Cloud felt his smile drop. He didn’t want to talk about something so personal. “But… um… Sephiroth is generally very quiet and serious. But he's got a fun streak in him too. He used to goof off with my brother and me. He'd also take me on fishing trips sometimes." The last bit of his smile faded. The memory of their last fishing trip besmirched the past positive experiences. "I liked those times. They were quiet and peaceful and we talked about the military and all the dreams I had." His mood soured. He’d been so excited. So full of hope. Hope for his future. Hope to impress Sephiroth and make his own parents proud. All his dreams really had died with his diagnosis. "Then he got deployed for a very long time."

"The Esplanade Venture?"

"Yeah, that one. That's where he made a name for himself and actually got promoted to General. I didn't see him for years after that, until I was ready to join the military and do my basic training. I was really excited to have him around, but when I saw him again…" he swallowed the lump in his throat, "things felt different." He couldn’t ignore how similar the recollection of that time of his life was to when he’d come back after his small break and seen Zack in the hospital again. It was eerily— _unnervingly_ —similar.

"Different? Whaddya mean?"

Cloud shook himself out of his more recent memories and cast his mind back… to something far worse. Feelings stirred; sadness—grief. Things were over between him and Sephiroth. They had never even had the chance to start something. He had himself to blame. "I hadn't seen him in a long time. He was really warm and friendly when everyone else at training wasn't. Jensen and his gang were at me almost daily because of who my mom is _and_ because Sephiroth was around, checking in with me. I had no one to turn to, except Sephiroth, so I spent more time with him. And, I mean, you can imagine, right? Things went from bad to worse. The physical demands and the mental shit…” He grimaced. “I got more exhausted which made Sephiroth check in with me even more and, well,” he shrugged. “Where before it had just been Jensen and his followers picking fights with me, it grew into everyone looking at me and saying shit about me winning favor with Sephiroth. They said that…" he grimaced, feeling sick, "I slept with him, and that I was doing things to get influence and move my way up the ranks because I wasn't cutting it in basic.”

"Oh, what? That's awful. Cloud. Buddy. I'm so sorry." Zack frowned.

Cloud breathed out a tight breath and hummed. There was something about telling this to someone else that felt good. And that someone being Zack… even better.

A small sound left Zack. Cloud looked at him.

“Did you… sleep—” Zack asked in an almost-whisper.

“No,” Cloud snapped, giving Zack a sharp glare. The pleasant feelings broke and fell away.

Zack muttered a chastened, “Sorry,” and gave Cloud a sorrowful look. “I just… wanted to… of course you didn't. You wouldn't do something like that." He shook his head. "I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Cloud huffed, irritated over Zack having asked that, but mostly irritated at himself because despite having wanted to avoid the details, he found himself blurting it all out. He couldn’t look at Zack. He felt too ashamed. He clutched his hands together, to keep the tremble out of his limbs. “People thinking those things and saying that shit about me pissed me off so bad. They were right in that I _wasn't_ cutting it. But not the other stuff, _okay?”_ he said with an aggressive edge and caught Zack nodding vigorously in his periphery. 

“I couldn't keep up. Couldn't get up in time. I had to run so many miles as punishment, which just made me sleep harder and longer. Which made Sephiroth _more_ concerned about me and had him checking up on me and telling the Corporal and Sergeant to take it easy on me, which _of course_ got everyone talking _even more._ ” 

His discomfort sat high in his chest, like a bolder. It had truly been like a feedback loop of awfulness. “God,” he rubbed at his face, “I hated it so much. _Really_ hated it. If hell is a place on earth it was basic training for me.”

“Cloud…” came the softest coo.

“And I was stubborn, so I didn't want to quit. Sephiroth made me slow down. He told me I could take my time. That I didn’t have to finish in the ten weeks that training went for. He got me to go to ten different specialists until I got an answer. Sephiroth was _there_ for me and I—but the rumors got worse and worse and the hazing and bullying didn't stop and I _hated_ it all and _them_ , and _especially_ Sephiroth because…" Cloud huffed and ground his teeth. He didn’t need to tell Zack more than that—didn't need to tell him about his feelings and how he'd pushed and begged Sephiroth to leave it all behind so they could go do something else and be happy—so _he_ could be happy. He could see how selfish he'd been. Yet it still hurt that Sephiroth had never chosen him over anything else. He'd never given an inch. Never looked to compromise. It had always been Cloud needing to yield. He was tired of bending for others.

Zack’s hand went to Cloud’s shoulder and squeezed him before he dropped his hand away again.

Cloud looked over and gave Zack a small smile, without actually seeing him. He stared back down at his hands. "And assholes like Jensen are _still_ saying shit about me. Even when I'm not involved with the military. I just want it to _end._ I don’t want to be around these people anymore. I want you out of here so we both don’t have to put up with this _shit_ anymore." He seethed and clenched his fists.

Zack hummed and shuffled a fraction closer. "What exactly are they saying?"

"That I'm only here to suck up to you. That I'm still wanting power and position. Even more now because I was useless and couldn't make it past basic—when in truth, I could have. I _could_ have made it. The extension aside, Sephiroth was looking at ways for me to get in and to do something more technical based. R and D, or something in intelligence, or even mechanical. I _could_ have done something, but I hated the organization and its culture too much and I’m too stubborn and I _don't_ want to be around any of these people and every day I'm here and I hear their shit and see them looking at me, reminds me of why I did the right thing not to pursue a career in the military. But I let my family down. I put the burden of my parents’ dreams on my little brother, and I feel my parents’ disappointment whenever I see them, and… and…” Tears pricked his eyes. He felt so mad at himself. Like he'd disappointed himself along with everyone else. He'd been a chicken shit and had run away from everything. 

His hands trembled. “I did the right thing for me. I know I did." Even though it had been the hardest decision Cloud had ever made up to that point in his life. At least he took solace in the fact that it had been _his_ choice. His mess to make and live with and try to make liveable. All he could do was keep trying. "But the cost of everything—" he blew out a sharp gust of air from his nose. "I get so pissed off when I hear people talking. They're jealous of my family, of Sephiroth talking to me and caring about me, of being friends with you. I know they are. They think I have everything but I didn't choose any of this. I didn't go out of my way to have _any_ of this. It's just my life and how dare people shit on me for things completely out of my control? The people I know and am related to. The illness I've got. That's not on me!" Cloud’s blood boiled. The tremble and rage increased. He dug his nails into his fist.

"You're right. None of that's your fault or doing. You didn't choose any of that. I'm so sorry, angel."

Cloud snapped his eyes up and glared at Zack. “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. It's not your fault.”

“I know, but…” Zack frowned, looking downcast, “I wish you didn't have to be put through all that stuff. If you had done basic training with me I'd have beaten all those people up for you.”

Cloud laughed out the heaviness in his chest. He seriously doubted Zack would ever have given him a serious look-in had they done basic together. A niggly part in him whispered that Zack might have been one of the bullies. Cloud would _definitely_ have hated that. "I didn't need you to beat people up for me. I did enough of that myself."—They exchanged sorrowful smiles—"But I appreciate the thought. Thanks. I’m sorry for talking about all of this. It really brought the mood down."

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I _did_ ask.”

Cloud hummed. “I hope that answers it for you. Things are complicated,” he sighed and nodded. “My relationship with Sephiroth is complicated. I pushed him away because that’s what I do with people I care about—”

“You’re not pushing me away,” Zack’s soft little smile bloomed, encouraging and warm.

Cloud could have melted against the man but steeled himself. He shook his head and put on a frown. “Anyway, that’s why I get tense when he’s around— _and_ because of that feeling that everyone’s judging me _and_ him. I don’t want to tarnish his reputation. It’s like… bad stuff follows me around.” He slumped in on himself. “I really just can't have relationships with people in the military. My family is already too hard,” he muttered and got lost in his thoughts: Sephiroth, his past, all the degrading remarks… 

Zack’s hand fell on his shoulder eventually which drew his attention over. Soft brows and a smile tinged in sadness greeted him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. How about we focus on the fact that it’s your birthday. I want to give you something.”

Cloud watched Zack carefully slide off the bed and fish for something underneath.

“You’ve already given me so much, you don’t—”

“But I want to, yeah?” Zack smiled up and presented a medium-sized box.

Cloud took it and offered his hand to help Zack up. 

Zack smiled. “Not a baby.”

Cloud shrugged his shoulder but kept his hand held out. Zack’s smile deepened and he took the offered support, after which he sat back on the bed.

Cloud looked over the box.

“Open it,” Zack urged with an excitement-laced tone.

Cloud did, to find—“Oh wow!” He held up the soft toy and looked it over. “It’s just like Nanaki. Where did you find a saarloos wolfdog?”

“I asked my aunt to keep a lookout on her travels. She really came through.” Zack looked more excited than a kid in a candy store. “You like it?”

Cloud huffed with joy and nodded. “Yes, I do. I love it. Thank you so much.” He leaned over and threw his arm over Zack’s shoulder. A happy note squeaked out of Zack and he reciprocated the embrace, with his own tight squeeze and a low chuckle. 

They pulled apart and smiled at each other.

“Oh, hey, I need to show you photos of my dogs, don’t I!” Cloud remembered.

“Oh yeah!”

Cloud fished around in his pocket for his cell, pulled it out, and showed Zack the photos and a couple of videos he’d taken when he’d been back home.

Zack was all big grins and marveled at everything he saw in the photos and then, once Cloud packed his phone away again, Zack said, “Thank you so much for showing me. Your dogs are adorable.”

Cloud chuckled. “Yeah. They are very cute. I miss them.” Cloud felt himself come down from the high. He remembered where he was and who was outside even as he tried to hold on to the knowledge of who was with him _right now._ “Thanks for making my birthday special. I forgot what it’s like to celebrate on the actual day.”

Zack’s smile, unbelievably enough, somehow grew even grander than before. “You are so welcome. Is there anything else you’d like to do?”

“Ah…” Cloud squeezed the soft toy, and the ache in his heart felt lighter with the joy Zack brought him. “Didn’t you say you’d play me a song?” He smiled and felt a slight hope stir.

“Oh yeah! I _have_ been practicing. Can you grab me the guitar?” Zack pointed to the wall nearest to the bathroom, where the guitar stood.

"Sure." Cloud got up, fetched the item, and brought it back to the bed. He handed it over.

Zack got comfortable with the instrument in his hands and rested it on his leg. “Good thing my right leg’s fine or this would have been way harder to pull off,” Zack laughed.

Cloud chuckled. “Nice to see your sense of humor.”

“All I’ve got left, some days.” Zack grinned and energetically thrummed the guitar and fine-tuned it.

Cloud heard the defeat in Zack’s voice. He admired him though for putting on a brave face without drowning Cloud in quips and brash laughter. Zack felt authentic. Cloud smiled until the reality of his situation sank in: two guys sharing a meal and then sitting together while one of them played the guitar was… it was… totally normal and there was nothing romantic about this situation. He averted his gaze, The sight of Zack Fair, with all his attractive features—his looks and personality—hit him all at once. Cloud wrung his hands, unbelievably nervous all of a sudden. He had no clue what Zack would play for him. What if… it was a _love_ song? He swallowed hard. Would he be able to ignore that? He had told himself he waited for a blatant sign from Zack: a confession as simple as three small words, or an inviting gaze, a small lean in, or a peck of a kiss on his lips. Cloud swallowed hard. A song would be pretty telling too.

He’d never be able to ignore something like that. He… _wanted_ something like that. Wanted it _so_ bad. 

A tune started up. Mellow. Sweet. Slow.

Cloud thought he would be sick from his nerves as he recognized the music. Was Zack going to seriously play him—

“You okay, bud?” Zack asked.

Cloud lifted his gaze and tried to relax his clenched fists. He unclenched his jaw and tried at a smile, which might have come out a little—or a lot—too tense. “Yeah,” he croaked.

Zack hummed and looked down at the guitar with the smallest of frowns. The melody he strummed changed to something energetic. Zack seemed to look for the right note and cycled through a few different riffs. He adjusted the tuning pegs. He settled on something and shot Cloud a grin. "I hope you know this song or I'm in trouble."

Cloud’s innards still buzzed. He felt a breath away from throwing up. "Whaddya mean?"

"Well, my singing's terrible, so I need you to field this, bud."

The nervous anticipation of what Zack was going to play got superseded by a cold dread that ran down Cloud’s body. "Nah-ah. There was never any mention of me having to sing. I don't sing."

"Aw, c'mon." 

"No. It's my birthday. Why should I embarrass myself on my birthday?" Cloud cocked an eyebrow.

Zack strummed the same couple of chords over and over as he talked, "You don't understand—when I say terrible I mean _terrible._ Here—listen—"

Zack started playing the melody in earnest—one that Cloud recognized. 

_**♪** Come to decide that the things that I tried were in my life just to get high on._  
_**♪** When I sit alone, come get a little known_  
_**♪** But something something da-da-da_  
_**♪** Step from the road to the sky to the sea, and I do believe that we rely on_  
_**♪** When I lay it on, come and play it on, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmmmm._  
_**♪** All my life’s a sacrifice—_Zack did absolutely terribly with the tempo of the words. His guitar playing was almost spot on but the way he sang had Cloud suppress his grimace and laugh.

 _ **♪** Hey oh... listen what I say oh_  
_**♪** I got your hey oh, now listen to what I say oh_—Zack warbled and wailed.

Cloud covered his ears and laughed which dislodged the discomfort he’d felt before. "Stop that. You're putting it on." He grinned, even though he tried to play at a serious glare.

Zack stopped his screech but kept the melody going. "Nah. That's how I sound. And the words… I don't really know them anyway, so, please? Help me out? I bet you have the voice of an angel."

The nervous buzz returned and flooded Cloud. "I… I know I can sing better than what you just put on but…"

Zack let out a sharp _'heh',_ "Even more reason for you to sing then. You know this song better than me. I'm sure you do."

"Yeah, probably, but like…"

"Can we sing it together then? You'll keep me in line and fill in the blanks for me."

Cloud let out an exasperated, yet also slightly amused sigh. “Only if you start—but _properly._ I don't buy it that you sound like a cat dying when you sing normally _._ You sounded fine when you gave me the cake.”

Zack tittered. “‘Happy Birthday’ isn’t a _real_ song.”

“Real enough.”

Zack rolled his eyes even as he smiled. “You seriously overestimate my singing skills, but alrighty. I'll make an effort, but _promise_ me you’ll join in and not let me die here on my own.”

Cloud chuckled. “Okay.”

Zack continued on from where he left off—  
_**♪** When will I know that I really can't go_  
_**♪** To the well once more - hmm hmm._  
_**♪** When it's killing me, when will I really see, all that I need to look inside._  
_**♪** Come to believe that I better not leave do-do-do-do-da-da,_  
_**♪** Well it's killing me, what do I really need - all that I need to look inside._

It was a big improvement and only _half_ tone-deaf. Though his tempo was still completely off and he tripped over the words. 

“C’mon, don’t look like that and join in.”

With a deep breath and a growing smile, Cloud joined in and found his voice.  
_**♪♪** Hey oh... listen what I say oh_  
_**♪♪** Come back and hey oh, look at what I say oh_

Cloud harmonized as much as he could with Zack. 

_**♪♪** The more I see the less I know_  
_**♪♪** The more I'd like to let it go - hey oh, whoa..._

Thy grinned at each other. 

"You're amazing. Keep going," Zack cheered on.

 _ **♪♪** Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder where it's so white as snow,_  
_**♪♪** Privately divided by a world so undecided and there's nowhere to go_—Cloud looked at Zack and helped him keep pace with the singing.  
_**♪♪** In between the cover of another perfect wonder and it's so white as snow,_  
_**♪♪** Running through the field where all my tracks will be concealed and there's nowhere to go._

_**♪♪** Ho!_

They found their stride and sang together. Their grins grew bigger.

 _ **♪♪** Went to descend to amend for a friend all the channels that have broken down—_Zack got tongue-tied but kept up with Cloud and overemphasized the words that he _did_ know.  
_**♪♪** Now you bring it up, I'm gonna ring it up - just to hear you sing it out._  
_**♪♪** Step from the road to the sea to the sky, and I do believe what we rely on,_  
_**♪♪** When I lay it on, come get to play it on_  
_**♪♪** All my life to sacrifice_

The chorus came back and Zack took a deep breath—  
_**♪♪** Hey oh... listen what I say oh_  
_**♪♪** I got your hey oh... listen what I say oh_

Cloud was convinced that Zack had put on an act before. There was no trace of ear-shattering awfulness now. Yes, Zack's voice broke and shifted when he got too loud—he sometimes didn’t know the words and did cute improv, but generally speaking, when he sang low the sound tingled down Cloud's spine. He appreciated Zack’s attempt and good humor. Whether it was for show or not didn't matter. What mattered was that he felt comfortable around Zack and not at all self-conscious about his own voice.

 _ **♪♪** The more I see, the less I know_  
_**♪** The more I'd like to let it go - hey oh, whoa..._

 _ **♪** Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder where it's so white as snow._  
_**♪** Privately divided by a world so undecided and there's nowhere to go_  
_**♪** In between the cover of another perfect wonder where it's so white as snow_  
_**♪** Running through the field where all my tracks will be concealed and there's nowhere to go._

 _ **♪♪** I said hey hey yeah oh yeah, tell my love now._  
_**♪♪** Hey hey yeah oh yeah, tell my love now._

Cloud really enjoyed himself. Enjoyed the music Zack played and the song in general that Zack had chosen to play.

 _ **♪** Deep beneath the cover of another perf_—“Hey! You’re not singing,” he protested when he noticed a severe lack of backing vocals. How long had Zack _not_ sung for?

“Your voice is so lovely. I wanted to listen to it.” Zack smiled as his fingers plucked the strings.

Cloud flushed and barely kept the pout off his face. 

"Keep singing for me?" Zack said in a low rumble.

Cloud frowned.

“Please.” Zack batted his eyes at him, tilted his head, and gave Cloud an adoring puppy-dog stare. 

The embarrassment wasn’t large. Cloud pursed his lips and stared at the floor as he continued the song with a brief disgruntled cadence to his voice—

 _ **♪** Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder where it's so white as snow,_  
_**♪** Privately divided by a world so undecided and there's nowhere to go._  
_**♪** Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder where it's so white as snow..._  
_**♪** Running through the field where all my tracks will be concealed and there's nowhere to go._

 _ **♪♪** I said hey oh yeah oh yeah... tell my love now_  
_**♪♪** Hey yeah yeah... oh yeah._

They finished the song together and Cloud kept his eyes fixed to the ground as Zack wrapped up the chords after which he put the guitar down. "Happy birthday, buddy," Zack said ever so softly. “And thank you for indulging me with your singing.”

Cloud's gut twisted over the affectionate tone. Heat sat on his cheeks. “You play really well. It was really nice.”

“Thanks,” Zack beamed with pride.

"Your singing was also not that bad. Maybe if you sang a song you actually knew…" He might have been fishing.

"Oh, no. It's so nice you have faith in me, but knowing the song doesn't help much. But thank you for saying that. Maybe you can tell Kunsel and my squad next time you see them." Zack smiled warm and bright.

Cloud chuckled slowly even though the thought of seeing anyone from Zack’s squad bothered him and made him uneasy. An indistinct buzz still resided inside of his chest. This afternoon had been such a bizarre event. He wondered what it would have felt like if he hadn’t had that run-in with Jensen in the hall. He would have enjoyed himself a lot more—wouldn't have talked about… could have… 

Zack stifled a yawn. It still set Cloud off too, and that signaled the end of their evening. Cloud helped to tidy up the room and packed things away. Then they both stood at the door. Cloud held his stuffed toy gift and looked at the exit with apprehension.

“You can stay the night if you want,” Zack offered.

“No. I need to go. I have work tomorrow and…” _Jensen_ died on his tongue.

“Let me walk you out.” Zack reached for the doorknob.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I’d like to. No one is going to say anything to you when I’m next to you.” A determined edge sat in Zack’s voice and his jaw jutted in a fierce and hard sort of a way. 

It took Cloud’s breath away. He had no doubt in his mind that this was the look Zack wore whenever he went into battle. It certainly roused something in Cloud and made him think he’d follow Zack to the ends of the earth if he were to ask it.

He could certainly brave a short trip to the elevator.

They went out into the dimly lit hallway. Nurses manned the station and wished Cloud and Zack a good night as they passed. Cloud did see Jensen, but the goon stayed away and Cloud smiled, elated.

“Thank you so much for the dinner and the dog,” Cloud said as they waited for the called-on elevator.

“You’re welcome and thank you for keeping me company.”

They shared a smile. Zack extended his hand whilst he leaned with his elbow on the crutch. Cloud took the offered hand and squeezed him.

“I’d love to give you a hug, but it’s probably not a good idea, right?” Zack’s eyes shone in the dim hospital light.

“Yeah. Probably.” Cloud gave Zack an extra fond squeeze of the hand and smiled. 

The elevator door chimed. Cloud didn’t want to let go. He felt like a hug. Felt like… a kiss. He whispered, “Goodnight,” and pulled out of Zack’s touch.

“Night,” the man husked and smiled ever so softly.

Cloud was only able to breathe again once the elevator door closed. He buried his face in the toy stuffy and probably imagined that it smelled faintly of Zack.

The smile which Zack ignited on Cloud’s face stayed with him even after he’d gone home and huddled into his bed. He hugged the soft toy and replayed the thoughts of Zack’s fingers on the guitar and the way those dexterous digits had brushed against his own hand.

It had been the most memorable birthday in quite a number of years for good and bad reasons. But as sleep began to take Cloud, he thought it was probably mostly for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got more Cloud backstory and Zack trying _really_ hard to make the 'date' as overt as possible. I do hope it’s clear that if the night hadn’t started off horribly and Zack hadn’t second-guessed himself with his song choice these two dorks would be canoodling right now. 😄
> 
> You can all blame Capt.BA for 'ExZackly' 🤭 Ain't that right, dear? 
> 
> The songs for this chapter - thematically and physically present:  
> [ Falling for You by The 1975 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3JJxS0gNkE)  
> [ Snow (Hey Oh) by Red Hot Chili Peppers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8wAQDCnT08) \- I linked to an acoustic version 😆
> 
> Next update in another fortnight, but on the regular scheduled day.
> 
> Comments and kudos and interaction spark joy in this author 🙏


	15. Care Package

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zack's days are definitely brighter when Cloud is around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of things to flag in this chapter. PTSD in its various guises, suicidal ideation, and shirtless Cloud with art from Capt. BA to accompany it.
> 
> Thank you again to prurient_curiosity for being my beta and allaying my fears and pesky self-doubts on this and many many _many_ subsequent chapters. It’s good to get a second, third, and fourth opinion on some stuff.
> 
> Also - I commissioned an artwork and added it to chapter 13. It’s of bazooka!Zack. Just in case some of you haven’t seen it yet. It is magnificent, IMO🤭 Do check it out

It had been a little over a month since Zack’s life had fundamentally changed thanks to his amputation. Of course, things had been very different before then too, but now things had ramped up in how changed everything was. His days were filled with being up and about, which was great but also grueling. It felt like every day he learned of something new he’d taken for granted. His leg in all its simplistic elegance always felt like the biggest and most glaring thing he’d taken for granted and now missed in his life.

Occasionally, he tried to think of his missing leg as something that had made him sick and something which he needed to be severed from in order to get better. His psychologist had suggested the reframe. Some of the people in his amputee group swore by this technique. Zack was still unsure. 

Sometimes—especially when he stood and moved (even though it was on crutches)—he _did_ feel relief that he still had his life, that he could still do things. A sort of peace swept through him like he had been freed from certain death and doom. But other days… he lived his absolute nightmares and shame. He couldn’t rid himself of the feelings that he shouldn’t have lived. That others—his close and dearest friends—should have lived instead. He felt like the loss of his leg let them all down. He should have been stronger than that. How could he ever honor anybody now?

He felt like that most often when people from work showed up, and these days… there was always someone from work over to visit him. Glorified military-admin officers came in to schedule and reschedule Zack’s hospital discharge timeline based on projected forecasts of his recovery. It was basically a roadmap of what would take place after he left. A great distaste sat in Zack as he was told about all the interviews he’d have to participate in with TV executives, talk shows, public appearances, speeches, and many more activities along those lines. He was told he’d be assigned a Media Relations officer very soon. Zack could hardly wait and he couldn’t deadpan that thought hard enough. 

Military-contracted personnel had also been assigned to him specifically to assess and scrutinize him. They popped in unannounced like when he was with Syd, his physio, or Brad, his OT, doing his daily strength-based exercises. They stuck around and spoke with— _interrogated_ —him, and then had long conversations with his therapists, where they consulted Zack's charts. They even came in after one of Zack’s amputee support groups to talk with the group leader.

It didn’t leave a very good taste in Zack’s mouth. He spoke with his group leader, and his psychologist; they assured him that nothing personal was disclosed; that everything was kept confidential. Zack felt an inherent distrust of the reassurances. He worried about what information got released. What accidental slip of the tongue would land him a medical discharge from active duty.

He worried a lot because having worked his ass off in the military the past ten years he’d heard many things, seen many attitudes… _held_ many attitudes. He knew how people would think about him because he had thought the same of others. Even Cloud’s condition… he’d probably have felt differently about the idea of it being a real thing if he’d only ever heard about it. Seeing the impact it had on Cloud’s life though left him without a shadow of a doubt regarding the legitimacy of the condition. Even his own amputation… it felt more real when he sat in the group and listened to others speak about their experiences. He could identify their struggles and could sympathize. He heard himself tell others not to be so hard on themselves, that they were all in this together, making the best out of crappy situations, and yet he was the first to yell at himself when he struggled and couldn’t do something.

All the reassurance in the world from those who helped support him wasn’t enough to shake the sense of dread. It didn’t matter how many times he heard how well he was doing—how _far ahead of the curve_ he was compared to others in similar situations—he still consistently felt like even his best wasn’t good enough for his employer. 

The military didn’t keep ‘broken’ people around. He didn’t know what to do with himself if he got medically discharged or kicked out for whatever reason. 

He couldn’t afford thoughts like that. He couldn't give anyone a single reason to discharge him. But sadly, he had too much time on his hands so the thoughts were inevitable. Yes, he had groups, and therapy—physical and mental—but all those things reminded him of what was wrong, gone, and broken. It wasn’t good for him. In the past, exercise, exertion, and work had kept him from bothering his head with pointless thoughts. He tried to find something he could do that wouldn’t remind him of his current situation. But every bit of movement was like a mean-spirited bully right behind him with a grating laugh. He tried to ignore it and went for walks. The nurses on his ward got sick of his constant pacing, so he moved himself to the rooftop garden, which was nice, but he didn’t like the looks he got. He felt embarrassed. He slunk back to his bed and tried to drown the internal critic with TV.

Reprieve from his internal world and the outward judgments came here and there from his more welcomed and appreciated visitors. They all meant well when they gave him compliments on how well he looked; Zack struggled to believe them. His body looked all wrong. He felt grotesque. Like a mere husk of his former self. A shocking parody and mockery of who he used to be. And people kept reminding him of how he used to be through well-intentioned remarks.

He longed for 24 hours where he wouldn’t have to see _anyone_ —with maybe the exception of Cloud. Thoughts relating to that man always brought a smile to his face. A smile he wasn’t sick of. But that didn’t diminish his wish to disappear: live somewhere he wasn't known and where he could re-establish himself. But that would mean not seeing Cloud again. He wasn't able to fathom not seeing him again. Cloud brought a light to his days. The random raging pain in his leg felt bearable when Cloud was there: when they talked, laughed, or shared a meal, or a drink. Cloud’s presence dampened the niggling thoughts which circled Zack’s head around how he wasn't all there. Something about how Cloud smiled at him stopped the feeling that all he was and ever would be was a cripple.

It was an important point for Zack. Cloud reminded him to hold hope especially on days he struggled to find it in himself. On days where he wished he wasn’t _there_ anymore. Not there for anyone to see. Not there for his employer to pass judgment _before_ he ever even got his prosthetic leg. That pissed him off the most: being judged without being given the one thing he needed to be close to maximum capacity and capability.

Zack grew agitated over seeing those he now considered friends in his amputee group get their prosthetic limbs. He got antsy—envious—jealous. He wanted that freedom for himself. Even if it was just another way to hide himself and his shame.

The day of his operation couldn’t come soon enough. 

And then it was just a sleep away.

Zack sat on his bed and idly flicked through TV channels when Cloud’s familiar knock sounded at the door. It lifted his heart out of his chest. “Hey, buddy!” he sang.

Cloud entered, wearing his casual clothes, his casual smile, and his arms laden with goods. “Hi, Zack. How are you?”

“Whoa, d’you need a hand?” Zack got off the bed, grabbed the left crutch, and hopped over.

“No, I’m good. I’ll put these…” Cloud looked over the top of a colorful bouquet of flowers which was piled on top of a box which was piled on top of _another_ box, “on the counter.”

They went over and Cloud carefully slid the delivery onto the kitchen countertop. He unstacked the items.

“Whaddya bring me today? I don’t usually get this many things all in one go. Is it Christmas already?” Zack grinned and leaned with his butt against the countertop. He set his crutch aside and grabbed the flower bouquet, lifting it to his nose for a whiff. “Mmm, I like these, who’re they from?” He looked for a label or card to no avail.

“Ah,” Cloud turned his head and looked down into the box. “Well, this box is from Aerith.” He opened it to reveal a dwarf cacti garden. 

Zack breathed in deep with excitement at how Cloud’s cheeks rosied over. Were those flowers from _him?_ Zack decided to spring the question on him in a couple more minutes, once all further distractions were cleared. He sat the bouquet aside and leaned over to get a better look at the assortment of plants in the box. “Nice. I’m glad she remembers I suck at remembering to water plants.” He laughed up at the ceiling, glad she wasn’t around to scowl at him.

Cloud smiled. “And this box,” he pulled it over to himself, got out his keys, and cut into the seal, “was waiting for you at the nurses’ station. They said they had just received it and asked if I wouldn’t mind bringing it in for you.”

“Did you charge them for your time?” Zack grinned.

Cloud chuckled. “No. This one’s gratis.”

“Oooh. How generous of you.” He returned his attention to the box and recognized the military base label. With a hum, he said, “Oh, cool! This must be from my squadmates. Open it, open it!”

“I am! Relax, geez,” Cloud laughed and pulled the flaps open.

Both men peered into the box, which was filled with goodies. Cloud handed Zack a letter, which he ripped open.

Zack laughed. “Someone scribbled out Corporal and put in ‘Sarge’. _Hey, Sarge,”_ he read, _“We heard you were getting your final op for your kick-ass leg and the squad wanted to send you a few things so you didn’t forget that some of us are still hard at work while you’re out there hardly working.”_ Zack chuckled and his eyes watered. He put the letter down. He’d read the rest later… in private. “So, what have those shitheads packed for me?”

Cloud hummed and pulled things out. “Twizzlers—"

"Oh, yum!" Zack grabbed the box and dug into the treat.

"Assorted flavors of protein powders—"

Zack laughed with affection and wondered if they might help him bulk up. His arms suddenly felt woefully tiny. "That's probably from Drew."

"There's also chocolate, cans of beans—" Cloud put them all on the countertop.

Zack snatched one of the cans from Cloud's hands and examined it while he chewed on the twizzler stick. "Yeah, Jumpin' Gong Gaga's, they're from my home. Tanisen must have put them in there for me. Mom makes this mean chili you've _gotta_ try!” He grinned, filled with excited joy. “I'll get this to her and ask her to make some next time she visits. I’ll get a bowl of it into you. You’ll love it.” He did a chef’s kiss and his mouth watered at the thought of his mom’s home-cooking. He put the can down on the countertop and tried to remember what the date was and when she’d be back for a visit.

"And, oh… there's this thing…" Cloud picked up a bit of dark gray fabric which unfolded into a shirt. Cloud looked at it. He furrowed his brows.

“What is it? What’s on it?”

“Ah… maybe… oh, look, there’s some nut bars in here.” He hastily dropped the shirt and pulled out the mentioned item.

“Oh, c’mon, Cloud,” Zack laughed and pulled the shirt out of the box.

"No, don't—" Cloud reached for the shirt but he was too late.

Zack held it up and read the text printed on the front aloud, "You know what I can't stand. No, seriously." He stared at it and held it firm even as Cloud tugged at the fabric.

"I'll get rid of it for you."

Zack blinked at it, not quite able to grasp… "You know what I can't stand…. No seriously— _oh!”_ He coughed out a laugh. His eyes pricked.

"I'm sorry… that shirt’s maybe in poor taste."

Zack let Cloud finally take it off him. "Quit apologizing for stuff that’s not your fault. It's probably from Barret.” Zack crossed his arms and thoughtfully chewed on the twizzler. “Scratch that. It’s _definitely_ from Barret. It’s got his sense of humor written all over it.”

He smiled and ran the text through his head again. _You know what, I can’t stand. No, seriously._ His stump ached—the mere fact that he _had_ a stump clogged up his chest with a sodden sensation. He felt himself teeter to the left and grabbed the bench so he wouldn’t fall. He barked out a laugh. The message of the shirt hit home. “It’s pretty spot on. I can barely stand.” He looked at Cloud. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t look so down. It’s a pretty funny shirt. I need to lighten up— _you_ need to lighten up.” He reached over with his right hand and _booped_ Cloud’s nose. The guy looked pretty adorable when he worried. Even more adorable when he blushed, which he did.

Cloud looked at the shirt for a long moment and then back up at Zack. "If you say so."

"I do." He pulled and chewed his twizzler. He felt the weight and balance of himself as he stood on his only remaining foot. “Anything else in the box?”

“There’s also this…” Cloud pulled out a sock. “But there’s only one.” He rummaged through the box.

Zack burst with laughter. “Oh geez.”

“What is it?”

“It’s…” Zack looked at Cloud and erupted into laughter again. How could he explain it? Would Cloud be mortified? Maybe… turned on? Zack swallowed down the laughter. “Well, you know how I told you I’d—through absolutely no fault of my own—end up naked and stuff…”

 _“Yeah_ …” Cloud dragged out the word.

“Um, well, the guys would throw socks at me so I’d cover it.” There. He’d said it. He felt his heart beat in his chest, and his cheeks felt warmer than before.

Cloud looked blank. His brows softly scrunched together—his eyes sprang open and he dropped—threw—the sock back into the box.

Zack couldn’t hold the laugh in.

Cloud repacked the box with a stern expression and a pink color to his cheeks. Zack couldn't get over how cute Cloud was.

“It’s just a joke,” Zack said softly.

Cloud gave him a smile. “You weirdo.”

Zack shook with quiet laughter. “So, anything else?”

“No. That’s about it.”

“Ah. Cool.” He looked over the things Cloud packed away. It almost felt like his squad was in the room with him. He smiled warmly—he looked up at Cloud, who’d stopped the clean-up and stared at Zack.

“Yeah?” he asked with a smile growing once again.

“You look happy.”

Zack felt it. “Yeah. Feels like they’re here with me, yanno? Feels like things are normal.”

Their smiles stretched. Zack wanted to pull Cloud into his arms. He looked down to find where Cloud’s hands were—he saw the bouquet. He grabbed for it and looked it over: clusters of yellow, white, and red petaled flower heads were wrapped up in a pastel-lilac plastic and smelled so sweet. “Do you know who sent me the flowers?” He tried to play cool. 

“Um…” Cloud began to pack things away again.

Zack hid his smile behind the flowers. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Of course.” Cloud delivered a piss-weak smile.

Zack’s smile grew too big. His lips parted. “They’re from you, aren’t they.”

Cloud gave the minutest nod.

Zack’s heart burst with a spark of joy. “Aww, Cloud! Angel. Buddy! C’mere!” He quickly, but gently, set the flowers down and reached for Cloud. He wanted— _needed_ —that embrace. He needed to hold Cloud forever. He forgot about his lack-of-leg situation and leaned like a chopped-down tree. The falling sensation stiffened him. He jerked. Cloud stepped in and threw his arms around Zack.

Zack clung on for dear life and got pushed back against the counter. 

They both quietly grunted.

“Careful,” Cloud muttered.

Zack’s heart thundered and blood rushed in his ears. He squeezed Cloud tightly, only able to release him when he realized what had just happened. “Thanks,” he puffed and gripped the countertop behind himself with both his hands to steady himself.

Cloud still held Zack by the waist, as if he didn’t trust him to stand on his own. Cloud looked up, his eyes wide with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just… forgot that I can’t stand. Seriously.” Zack cracked out a laugh and expelled the chagrin to the ceiling.

Cloud huffed out a small laugh.

Zack shifted his weight to the right and used his left hand to pat Cloud’s shoulder. “Thanks for saving me.”

Cloud relaxed his grip around Zack’s waist and stepped back a little. "You’re welcome. Here.” He took up and held out Zack’s forearm crutch. “Maybe you should use this.”

“Or maybe I should hug you some more first.” Zack disregarded the crutch and reached for Cloud, draped his arm around slim shoulders, and pulled him to his chest. Zack breathed out his relief and inhaled Cloud’s warm, comforting, fresh scent. “Thank you so much for the flowers. Really unexpected.” Zack noticed the tremble in his leg as fatigue set in. He let go of Cloud, worried that he’s put too much weight on him—worried that Cloud might notice the shake. He leaned heavily against the countertop and took some weight off his leg. “What’s the occasion?” he asked to distract himself from his weakened state.

“I, ah… it’s a big day tomorrow.” Cloud’s lips twitch with a smile.

“Yeah. It is.” Zack grinned. He dug deep for a new reservoir of strength and went back for another hug, unable to get enough of Cloud. He pillowed his cheek against Cloud’s styled-yet-soft hair. Cloud wrapped him up in a hug and pressed his hands flat against Zack’s back. Zack squeezed him tightly. He felt incredibly comforted and secure in Cloud’s arms. It was like he sat on cloud nine. He chuckled at that thought. “You didn’t have to get me anything, but it’s very nice that you did.”

Cloud hummed and shrugged. “I wanted to.” He slipped his arms down which clued Zack in that it was time to let go. He did, reluctantly, but also with necessity. Fatigue set in rapidly.

Cloud looked up at him, his hands still on Zack’s sides for support. “I still feel guilty about not having gotten you anything for your birthday so…” He shrugged.

Zack leaned back and supported himself on the countertop. As he looked at Cloud’s gorgeous face he marveled at the man’s inability to let go of things. He still didn’t understand how Cloud had completely missed the point that _his presence_ was the only present Zack ever needed or wanted. “I told you, you gave me the _best_ gift.” He refrained from cupping Cloud’s cheek. Resisted the urge to kiss Cloud, largely because of how unsteady he felt. But boy… the temptation played on his mind until the tremble in his body spread to such a degree that he was forced to pay attention. He shifted his weight and tried to get the shake out of his joints. 

“Let’s go sit down,” Cloud gently suggested and held out the crutch.

Zack grinned and found Cloud’s concern sweet and well-timed. He finally took up the offered help and also grabbed the flower bouquet. “Can you bring some of those chocolates over with you?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

They moved everything over and Zack got comfortable on the bed, his legs folded up close… sort of… and the bouquet in his lap. “So tell me about these flowers.”

“Zinnias.” Cloud sat opposite of Zack on the bed and dug through the box. He picked out the chocolate and nut bars.

“And?” Zack buried his nose in the flowers and hid his smile while he looked at Cloud. The soft blush heightened the glow of Cloud’s pale but bronzed skin. He was such a sight. 

_“And?”_

“Flowers have meanings, remember?” He died to know what Cloud had thought when he picked these.

“They’re, uh… for endurance.” Cloud stopped rummaging, and though he didn’t _look_ at Zack directly, he still faced him. “I guess they remind me of you. Bright and strong and…” Cloud’s eyes darted to meet Zack’s and his blush deepened as he spoke, “able to put up with a lot. You endure, like the zinnia.”

Zack no longer wore a smile. He gulped down the lump in his throat drudged up by the well of emotion. He scooched, leaned over, and flung his arms around Cloud. He pulled him close. The bouquet rustled as he still held it while he embraced Cloud. “Thank you,” he breathed against Cloud’s ear.

They stayed pressed together—Cloud sneezed. They pulled apart and Zack eyed the flowers. Cloud rubbed his nose. Zack put the flowers aside. “If they make you sneeze you shouldn’t—”

Cloud waved at Zack. “It’s fine. I wanted to get them for you, for tomorrow. How’re you feeling about it all?”

“Pretty good. Kind of looking forward to it, actually.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “This is the final leg of the journey.” He grinned at Cloud, who huffed with a small laugh. He had to keep it light or he’d cry again. “After this, I can really get on and move forward. I’m raring to go.”

“So… you’re feeling much better about it than last time.”

“Yeah. Definitely. Hundred percent. I was in such a bad place last time. I had no hope and thought I had no Cloud. I’ve got both now though. Nothing to be scared of.” The way Cloud smiled at him warmed him. He reached for and took up Cloud’s hand.

“Do you want me to be there tomorrow, or do you think you’ll be okay?”

Zack positively felt himself beam at the offer. He knew Cloud hated being here, especially with Lionel Jensen on patrol in the halls. He felt honored that Cloud was willing to put up with that discomfort, all for his sake. “I’ll be fine but I’d still love to have you around tomorrow.”

“When is it?”

“Fourteen-hundred. Shouldn’t take more than two hours, tops. They’re cutting me open, checking the stint’s taken to the bone, and inserting the press-fit. If you want to be here when I wake up that would be nice.” It was an understatement. Cloud’s presence would be _amazing._ It wasn’t even that he needed the support. He felt better about the prospect of the operation—really looked forward to getting on with it actually. But having Cloud around was just… special to him. Cloud’s company would also mean he might not spend the afternoon running circles in his head about all sorts of things.

"I'll fit you into my schedule. Maybe get us some burgers after? Do you think that’s okay to eat after your operation?"

"Burgers? Hell yeah!" Zack's heart leaped with joy.

Cloud shook with a silent laugh. “Maybe you’re not the right person to ask. I should run it past Bernice.”

“Oh no.” He waved his hand about. “No, no, no. No. Don’t do that.” He noticed himself going in to touch Cloud’s lips. He pulled his hand away. Not touching Cloud became harder with the passing weeks. “I promise I’ll eat slow and won’t throw up. Scout’s honor.” He stuck up two fingers.

Cloud laughed a little louder. He shook his head and hummed. “Alright. A small burger then. No cheese.”

Zack didn’t know how he’d ever lucked out with Cloud. He couldn’t stop the joy which spread across his face. “Thank you. You’re the absolute _best.”_ He felt the need for another hug rise inside. Instead, he patted the spot next to himself. “Get comfortable. Our show’s gonna start soon.” He nodded up to the TV.

Cloud looked at the spot next to Zack. He looked at the chair. Zack’s heart raced as he wondered what Cloud might choose. His heart leaped and his smile spread as Cloud moved the box and confectionary and scooched up next to Zack. He fluffed the pillow before he rested against it.

A throb of elation and energy coursed through Zack. He couldn’t contain it. He had to get up and took the flowers with him. 

A small sound fell out of Cloud.

“Just gonna put these in some water,” Zack informed and looked over. He received a tight-lipped smile and Cloud settled back down. “I’ve got it. All good.” Zack flashed a grin. He liked Cloud’s concern. He liked Cloud holding his tongue even better. 

His leg and arms still shook, but he also burst with energy so he got on with his self-appointed task and took the bouquet to the kitchen. He thought of the care package he’d received. He smiled. He looked at the flowers. He beamed. He found a bit of twizzler stuck on his tooth and flicked it with his tongue. “Hey, Cloud.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite candy?” He reached the kitchenette and made to get a mug.

“Uh…”

Did Cloud not _like_ candy? Zack shot him a look over his shoulder.

“Butterfinger.”

“Oooh.” He turned back around and filled the mug with water and placed the flowers inside. “Can I make you a coffee?”

“It’s okay, I can—”

“Do you want one or not?” Zack said pointedly.

Cloud huffed. A smile graced his lips. He hummed and nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Good.” Zack got on with it and paid extra close attention so he could get it _juuuuust_ right. 

“How was your day? Did you set a new personal record?” Cloud asked.

Zack briefly smiled over at Cloud—he looked so good in bed. That thought made Zack hot all over. “I did. Fifty leg raises on five-pound weights.”

Cloud cheered and with joy in his voice, said, “Go you.”

“Yeah. Go me.” Zack raised his fist to the sky and gave a thumbs up. Cloud always checked in with him and celebrated the little things that Zack wouldn’t even consider worth batting an eyelid at. He had been able to do _so much more_ before. But now he was resigned to celebrating 5 pounds. It felt… demeaning. It was embarrassing how much that workout had taxed him. But he knew he was on a long-haul journey to recovery. At least Cloud’s enthusiasm felt real. It reminded him to be grateful and to celebrate the small—minuscule—wins.

Cloud asked him a bunch of other things as he busied himself with the coffee machine and the milk and the sugar and the stirring. And then—

“How are the squats coming along?”

Zack left that question unanswered. He poured his entire focus into walking the coffee over to Cloud without messing up. Having an audience really piled the pressure on.

He managed to deliver the drink without a drop spilled. Cloud smiled and thanked him. He took the mug from Zack, who felt very proud of his accomplishment of making Cloud smile. He went back around to his side of the bed and kept the relieved groan down to a small sigh as he sat on the mattress. He wedged the crutch between the mattress and frame at the end of his bed and scooched up to his spot beside Cloud.

“The squats are coming along. I got three and a half in today.” He tried to be proud of himself. Really tried. The plastered-on smile helped draw out some of the sting from his heart.

“Amazing! You’re doing _so_ well!”

“Yeah, thanks.” Zack rubbed at the back of his head.

“No, really. Remember, you thought you’d never do a single one in your life again, and today you did _three and a half!”_

Zack laughed at that: genuine and warm. “When you put it like that, yeah. Sure. You’re right.”

Cloud nodded and nursed the coffee. “Of course I am. I know you’re looking at the bigger picture but take time to reflect on the smaller details. You gotta climb that mountain one step at a time—one squat at a time—one pound at a time.”

Zack leaned into the pillows and soaked in Cloud’s delightful presence. “You’re such a sage.”

“No. It’s just easier for me since I’m not standing in your shoes.”

“Shoe. Only need one, remember.” Zack grinned and lifted one finger, pointedly. “Imagine the shoe bills I’ll save on.”

“Shoe’s come in pairs.”

“Oh yeah.” He frowned with realization. “Man, what a waste. What am I supposed to do with the other one?”

Cloud hummed, taking another sip of his drink. “Oh, actually, I think I saw something not so long ago about a company that sells single shoes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think it was started as an initiative to help amputees. But once you get your leg you’ll need two shoes anyway. Unless you plan to not wear it all the time?”

“Oh, no. I’ll wear it all the time. So I better stock up on shoes. I’ll wear ‘em out. Guess a good thing is I only have to undo one shoe. The other one can stay on the foot until it falls off—the shoe I mean. If the foot falls off I hope it’s covered under warranty.” Zack chuckled. Cloud tittered. They smiled at each other. Zack appreciated how easy it was to talk to Cloud about stuff like this. His therapy groups helped to an extent, but Cloud helped even more because he was a real person in Zack’s life.

He wondered how he’d get on joking with his superiors and evaluators. That thought made him frown. He returned his attention to the TV and watched it… though he mostly snuck glances at Cloud as he drank the coffee.

Cloud smiled as he drank. He seemed to really enjoy the coffee as he lingered with his lips against the mug and the pads of his fingers rubbed the plain white porcelain. 

A warmth sturred inside of Zack. The fact that Cloud chose to spend time with him felt… priceless. He basked in the tingling sensations that Cloud gave him. Absolutely reveled in it… though with the passing days—and now on the eve of his final operation—he also grew exceptionally self-conscious of the fact that their time together had an expiration date.

Cloud had said he didn’t want to come to the hospital anymore. Wanted Zack out of there too. Didn’t want to be embroiled in the military. Didn’t want to be around the reminders of his painful past which stalked the hallways in the afternoons. Zack clenched his fists. He felt so angry. He still thought about ways to get Jensen permanently off guard duty. Nothing legal came to mind so far. Nothing that wouldn’t stir up trouble for himself or Cloud. He hated the idea that Cloud was uncomfortable. But it also spoke volumes to Zack that Cloud was still around in spite of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be.

Surely, that meant something. Surely, they were friends. They’d keep in touch. Surely, he could ask Cloud out on a date. It wasn’t hard. Just _one_ date. Though… Zack _had_ asked him out on a date when it had been Cloud’s birthday. It had been a _dinner date_. They had both dressed up—Cloud had looked so handsome. The night should have been spectacular. He’d planned it all out: a lovely dinner, cozy up to Cloud with cake, play him a song from the heart after which he’d planned to profess all his feelings. But it had turned into a disaster. 

He felt responsible for the way the birthday dinner had fallen through. He’d involved Jensen too much—renewed anger bristled inside. He should have gotten rid of him somehow. Given Jensen his military-issue credit card and told the guy to have a night off in the town. His treat. But instead, he’d asked the jerk for help with setting up the room. And the asshole had burst in on them as well.

His attitude to _Lionel Jensen_ had definitely changed. His skin crawled and his blood boiled every time he saw him. Zack tried to tell himself he had no way of knowing. Cloud hadn’t said anything until his birthday. It frustrated him how much Cloud _didn’t_ talk at times. And other times he’d say _too much._

Like when he’d talked about GeneralSephiroth. He’d said that things were ‘complicated’. What did that even mean? Did Cloud have deep feelings for him? Zack had held some doubts and reservations about whether or not Cloud even liked men. But after their talk, Zack felt pretty confident that Cloud _did_ like men. Why did _men_ have to be General Sephiroth? He knew he had _nothing_ on _General_ Sephiroth, especially now that he was pathetic and broken. The man was magnificent and Zack was a blundering fool in comparison. He didn’t know how he could give Cloud a positive impression of himself when he was _barely_ half of who he used to be. 

Even if he could _somehow_ pull it off, could Cloud ever like _him?_ When he looked like he did, with all his scars, and missing leg, and pathetic three and a half squat capacity? Could Cloud ever want anyone who kept having breakdowns? General Sephiroth never had any, Zack was sure of it.

That conversation, and the whole evening, really, had left him in shambles. It had shattered and eroded his already fragile confidence. He wasn’t even sure if it _had_ been a date now. Even a disastrous date should have netted him some kind of reaction at the end of the night. And he thought that despite it having gone badly it had ended sort of on an okay note? But Cloud had given him nothing to work with. No kiss, no deep love confessions—they had only talked about _General_ Sephiroth. That turned Zack’s stomach. And even now, nothing felt different. Though… he supposed the fact that Cloud sat with him on the bed could be seen as significant?

Zack was at a loss in the truest sense. Why did he feel so _impotent?_ Why did he second-guess himself at almost every turn? Why did he keep tip-toeing around Cloud instead of coming out and telling him that he liked— _loved_ —him? He loved Cloud Strife with all his idiosyncrasies: his knock, the quiet way he spoke, the scowls—smiles. His laughter, so rare and precious. His deep-held heartaches, and strength, and patience: all the patience Cloud had for him.

A huge wave of pain squeezed his heart. His leg throbbed—his toes itched, mocking him because they weren't _there_. Cloud meant so much to him. And yet he couldn’t express himself. Couldn’t take it further when, in the past, taking things further with people far less important to him had been ridiculously easy: ‘Hey, good-looking, how about you and me have a nice time?’ Or he’d just kiss someone. He wanted to kiss Cloud. So many times. So many times he _would_ have if… if…. He had no legitimate excuse. He was just afraid. And he’d never been that before. He’d never… _cared_ enough before. But he cared now. Too much.

He didn’t want to hurt Cloud. He didn’t want to _lose_ Cloud. Didn’t want to scare him off. He felt he stood on a knife’s edge. An edge that got thinner and thinner whenever things like _Jensen_ happened, when things like his bosses came around when Cloud was around. Anything to do with his job, really. Anything which reminded Cloud of the things he hated. The knowledge that Cloud didn't want to be involved with the military weighed on Zack. It kept him up some nights with wonderings around what he could or should do. The quickest thing which came to mind was that he could quit—if he wasn't already as good as kicked out of doing anything meaningful. He didn’t want to be kept on just so the brass could save face. That turned his lips up into a snarl. He understood the need for propaganda but the fact that they used him like this… turned his stomach.

This shouldn’t have happened. He’d wanted to be a hero. He was _supposed to be_ a hero. But not like this. Not at such a steep cost. His squad. His leg. Everything had gone terribly wrong and now… _now..._

“Hey, Zack.” Cloud’s soft words pulled Zack right out of his spiraling thoughts. 

He blinked and dislodged the stupor he’d fallen into. “Hm, yeah? Everything okay? How’s the coffee?”

Cloud gave him a little smile. “Coffee’s really good. Are you okay? You’re looking thoughtful. And that never means anything good.” His brows quirked up a fraction.

The tease was unmistakable. Zack wiped the scowl off his face and smiled gently. Cloud really _did_ like the coffee he made. He breathed deep as he flushed with warm tingles. “Yeah. Just thinking about a bunch of things. I really love the flowers you got me.” — _Stupid,_ he snapped at himself. He could say he loved everything except for the guy right next to him? What if he tried at a casual ‘love ya’ when Cloud left? He didn’t know. It was… a scary prospect. A lot of things worried him of late. Too many things. 

"Anything you want to share?"

Blurting out his feelings floated into his head again. But what was the point? Everything felt against him—his body, Cloud's attitude and feelings… “I’m…” What? _In love with you._ “Worried about how people see me—will see me.” He internally clicked his tongue at himself. He was _so pathetic._ He just couldn’t quit showing Cloud how lame he truly was. “I dunno. I feel like people are judging me—comparing me to how I used to be. How was it for you when you found out about adrenal fatigue?” He cast his gaze onto Cloud and hoped he wasn’t prying. “I know you told me your family didn't believe you. What about others? It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it though.”

“Oh. No. It’s okay to ask. Uh… I don't know if I can be of any help. My family and extended family knows, but otherwise, I keep it pretty much to myself—though I tell my bosses when they start asking questions.”

“Is that how Tifa found out?” Zack asked gently.

“Yeah. Tifa gave me my first long-term job, I guess. I had to explain it to her. I did apprenticeships with mechanics that fell through because I never told them the reasons for my absences or the few times I tried…” He grimaced into his mug. “I felt I could trust her with it—plus, I needed an emergency contact for when things got bad. My family’s too far away. And I honestly don’t want them to know when things go wrong.”

“Things didn’t go wrong too often, right?”

“Not too often. Just enough to be a nuisance to Tifa which meant I had to come clean.” 

“Yeah. Makes sense.” Zack weirdly admired Cloud's condition. It sucked how it impacted him but at least it remained hidden and could be explained away by many things. Zack had always thought Cloud had just been a workaholic—he still seemed like one, but it wasn't the reason for the coffees and the exhaustion. Yeah… Zack envied that. He rubbed at his leg. His hand ran too far and slipped right off. He frowned.

“I get you're worried. You'll be able to do more things when you have your leg though.” Cloud soothed as he watched Zack.

“Yeah. I'm thinking about that too. Guess I'm finding it hard to come to terms with this being my life. Just lots of worries because I don’t know how things are gonna be after I go back out there.” Would he be able to hold the respect and command that came with his new station? Would he turn into a laughing stock? Would it be better to just disappear from this line of work completely? Was there a point asking Cloud or confiding in him about his worries? Cloud hated Zack's job. He didn't want to make Cloud uncomfortable thinking about it. He didn't want to be talked out of his future. Zack still wanted to try and get back what he'd lost… to some extent.

Cloud didn’t say anything, but he swapped the mug into his other hand and dropped his free hand onto the mattress in the gap between them. His palm faced up. Zack stared down at it—at the invitation. It was an invitation, right? Maybe things _had_ changed between them? Could he possibly _be_ so lucky?

He looked up at Cloud and received a small smile. Zack’s stomach fluttered. He paused for a moment before he placed his hand in Cloud’s. The touch was warm from where Cloud had held the coffee. His hand was so much more though. It offered reassurance and comfort. They interlaced their fingers. Zack wanted to tug Cloud into a kiss so bad—but where would that lead? What if Cloud ran away? He wasn’t brave enough to take the risk. He’d figure things out. He still had time… for now.

The day of Zack’s operation arrived. He didn’t think much of it. He looked forward to Cloud’s visit though. So he was quite eager to get put under, get it over and done with, and then wake up to his reward. Which he did. Cloud came into soft focus as he drifted on an anesthetic-induced cloud of comfort.

"Hey, Zack. Welcome back."

That smile—his hair surrounded by an ethereal glow—the hazy numbness that the anesthetic brought with it—Zack felt like he was having an out-of-body experience—had possibly died and come face to face with an actual angel. The divine smell of burgers pricked his nose. “Angel,” he murmured with a lazy smile.

“How’re you feeling?”

“So good.” He reached up and touched Cloud’s cheek, stoked over the realness of the touch. “I love ya, Cloud. Bringing me burgers and everything. You're like… my guardian angel of burgers!” He laughed with a special kind of euphoria and medical inebriation. He laughed even harder over Cloud’s silence. “Cat caught ya tongue?”

“Ah… I… y-you…” Cloud frowned his confusion away and pulled Zack’s hand off his face. Sounding far stronger, he said, “They put you on extra strong stuff today or something, huh?”

Zack didn’t know or care. He just laughed.

He could always count on Cloud to be there. A friendly presence. A kind and nonjudgmental ear. The reason for Zack’s heart to beat faster. For his smile to feel genuine. A reason to stay afloat in the vast ocean of misery and despair. And even though the despair didn’t get as bad as it had been, he certainly still had his down days after his operation.

Zack had to stay on bed-rest for a couple of days—they said five weeks, which made him cringe. He figured a solid week of elevating his leg—which now had a rod protruding from it which his prosthetic would eventually click onto—should be enough though. He tried to behave and stay put. A lot rode on it. He wanted to heal as fast as possible. The bed-rest was made a lot more bearable because of Cloud, who kept surprising him with really thoughtful gestures: he stopped by every couple of days and each time brought something to keep them entertained.

A deck of cards turned into a game of snap, a house of cards, an introductory lesson to poker, and target practice as they tried to knock over coffee capsules, and embed cards into the flowers and potted plants—they swore never to tell Aerith.

Cloud even brought in a chess-set at one stage.

“Do you want to play with me?”

Zack knew _of_ chess but had never played it. “Yeah. Sure.”

Cloud cleared the tray table, swung it over the bed, and set up the board between himself and Zack as they both sat on opposite ends. “Do you play a lot?” Zack asked as he looked on: Cloud expertly and confidently placed the pieces in, what Zack had to assume, was the right order.

“Not so much anymore. We kind of have this family tradition of playing it over Christmas though.”

That did not bode well for Zack. He rubbed his palms on his pants.

“Do you want to go first?” Cloud asked and looked up at him expectantly.

“No. You can.”

“Oh. Sure.” Cloud spun the board around.

Zack looked on, confused why he had just done that. And then he watched on even more confused as Cloud moved one of the little pieces. Zack copied the move. And then another, and another. Cloud cleared his little pieces quickly off the board.

“Hey Zack?”

The way Cloud said his name dropped Zack’s heart into his stomach. He hummed.

“You _do_ know how to play chess, right?” Cloud asked, slow and measured.

The sinking feeling increased. “Yeah. Of course, I do.”

Cloud eyed him. Zack already knew that the jig was up.

“What’s this piece called?” Cloud lifted up the horse's head.

“A horse, of course.” Zack huffed and gave a confident laugh.

Cloud cocked his eyebrow, put down the piece, and picked up another. “And this one?”

“A castle.” It was over. He knew it was over. He figured he’d have fun to ease his embarrassment over looking dumb in front of Cloud. “Honestly, I thought you played this game before. Next thing you’ll be asking me what pointy-hat guy’s called.” Zack picked up the slim piece with the mentioned pointed top. “His name’s Biggs, by the way. And his partner’s named Wedge.”

Zack counted his lucky stars that Cloud laughed. And not in a mean way either.

“You don’t know how to play. Why didn’t you say something? We don’t have to play chess.” Cloud admonished, wearing a soft look. “We can use the board to play checkers instead. It’s way easier and might be more fun.”

“I want to do something you enjoy though. Do you like checkers?”

“Yeah. Of course, I do.”

Zack examined Cloud for a hard second. He imagined that when Cloud had said he’d played chess with _family_ he’d also meant _General_ Sephiroth _._ A competitive spurt sparked inside. “Well, I wanna learn your way of playing chess.”

“My way?”

“Yeah. I know the Gongagan way of playing, but you’re telling me it’s not good enough.”

A look of surprise crossed Cloud’s face. It mellowed into a smile and then he laughed. “What’s the Gongagan way of playing?”

Zack shrugged. “Beats me. But in Gongaga we call these li’l dudes ‘midgets.’” He picked one up.

Cloud clapped a hand in front of his mouth and laughed into it. “Zack,” his eyes sparkled. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Right. Dwarves then. They’re like half the size of my tower-headed dude here.”

Cloud stifled his laugh. “That’s your king. You gotta protect him at all costs.” 

“Oh. Right. Right.”

Cloud still smiled with soft care. “I think the Gongagan way of playing might need to be overhauled.”

Zack pressed his palms together and bowed his head slightly. “Teach me, oh great one.” 

Cloud laughed. Zack grinned and soaked in the warm affection. 

“Okay. Let’s start from the top.” Cloud reset the board. “So this front line here are your pawns—”

“Oh,” Zack breathed out and hammed it up because Cloud’s bemusement was worth every exaggerated expression he could muster. “The way you were picking mine off before makes me think they should be called cannon-fodder, instead.”

Cloud’s laughter made Zack titter as well. He didn’t understand chess but this was his favorite board game now. It was decided.

Cloud cooled his laughter and said, “If you use them right they shouldn’t _be_ cannon-fodder. They’re your first line of defense. Don’t underestimate them and their usefulness, okay? But also don’t get too precious trying to protect them.”

“Cannon-fodder.” Zack nodded and tapped his chin in thought.

More laughter rang out of Cloud. “You know… there’s one legend about chess and how it was invented. Do you want to hear it?”

“Of course.” Zack absolutely loved it when Cloud shared stories with him.

“So, legend says that there was this tyrannical king named Shahram who didn’t care about his men. He just went after whatever he wanted, and sent out his troops to do his bidding. Shahram had an advisor who didn’t like what the king was doing to the citizens of the land so he invented a game to represent the entire kingdom. There was the king,” Cloud pointed to the piece, “his queen,” he pointed to the next piece and each subsequent one as he said, “rooks, bishops, knights, and pawns. You following so far?”

“Yup. If this ends up being an allegory for how I’m the king and you’re my sage advisor, I’m down for that too.”

Cloud gave him a big smile but shook his head. “Nothing like that. Nothing tyrannical about you except when you get competitive in card tossing games.”

They both laughed. These were the precious moments Zack lived for right now. “I get mad competitive. Teach me too much of this chess thing and I’ll try and whip your butt.” He winked.

“Sounds pretty good. I’ll try and teach you everything I know.” Cloud grinned back.

The streak of competitiveness lit Zack’s fire, but the thought of Cloud’s butt proved too distracting for him. He zoned out for a moment. Sometimes Cloud came in wearing leather biker pants and that… made certain parts of Zack wake up from their deep ice age hibernation. He tuned back into what Cloud was saying—

“—so grateful for being shown the game that he offered his advisor all the gold and silver he could carry. The man declined and told the king that all he asked for was to have one grain of wheat put on the first square of the chessboard, two on the second, and to keep doubling the previous amount until the board was full, and he’d take that as his reward. The king was offended but ordered his servants to do as the man had asked. The servants soon came back saying they couldn’t carry that much wheat and that that amount didn’t exist in all their lands. So the king learned a second valuable lesson that day: just like pawns in a game of chess, you should never underestimate the small things in life.”

“Ah… that’s a cool story but… why couldn’t the servants get enough wheat?” Zack looked at the board and started multiplying in his head—which wasn’t his strong suit. He got confused after the eighth square.

“It’s something like nine quintillion grains of wheat.”

Zack whistled. He’d missed the middle bit of that tale, and a number as big as even just one billion was too staggering for him to fathom, but he still thought he got the point of the story. “Yeah. Definitely a cool story. Thanks for telling me that. I’ll respect my cannon-fodd—I mean pawns.” He grinned.

Cloud explained more of the game as they went on. He clarified his moves and made suggestions for Zack on what might be good options for him to counter with.

“Horsie, to C-four,” Zack declared as he moved the figure to the spot, and knocked down one of Cloud’s pieces.

“That’s not a legal move.”

“In Gongaga it is.”

Cloud scoffed. “Well, in Nibelheim, I can do this—” He swept off all of Zack’s remaining pieces.

Zack gasped. “This is a betrayal of the highest caliber! You assassinated my whole kingdom! Prepare to die!” He pushed the tray table away and grabbed Cloud—dug his fingers into ribs, tickl— _ **BANG!**_ A mortar went off somewhere too close for comfort. Zack threw himself down and covered his comrade. “Keep your head down,” he screamed to be heard over the commotion of gunfire, bomb explosions, and fighter jets that cut through the sky up above.

“Zack!” came the cry from below him.

“Head down!” Zack commanded with a bark and ducked as well. He tensed and flinched. The heat of an explosion at his side burned his skin. He turned his face to keep the embers off and buried his nose in his comrade’s hair.

The static in his ears cleared. The debris field snapped out of existence. Zack jumped with a start. His heart thundered. He squinted against the garish lights. Where… 

“Zack!” a scared voice called from beneath.

Zack looked—he jerked with fright. “C-Cloud.” He flung himself off and almost knocked into the bedhead.

Cloud panted and sat up. Wide blue eyes stared over at Zack. “It’s okay. You’re okay! We’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

Zack blinked rapidly. The scene from before sat burned in the back of his head. The sensations still rushed through his body. “Sorry,” he huffed with his heart in his throat and his skin clammy. He clenched his fists to try and stop the tremble in his limbs.

Cloud rubbed at himself and brushed at his hair. A stern expression sat on his face and his eyes darted all over Zack. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I…” Zack squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deep. His body trembled. He was in hospital. In _hospital_. He clutched the bedsheets: the bedding so much softer than the feel of grit, and sand, and dirt beneath his hands. The air smelled clean. He inhaled it deep into his lungs. The temperature in the room almost chilled him. There was no hot blistering sun here. His breath came with greater ease. His heart hurt less in his chest. He was such a loser. He forced the shudder of frustration and the sting of tears back down. “What happened?”

“You had a flashback.”

“I _know_ that,” Zack snapped with a low rumble of anger in his chest. 

Cloud jumped.

Zack blinked. Huffed. His heart rate was still too elevated. Adrenalin pumped. Usually, he thrived on this feeling, but not when it was fake, conjured up in his head at the most stupid of moments. He hated being so out of control. “Sorry,” he said a lot softer. “I know what it was but I don’t know why it happened.” 

“Oh. The chessboard fell onto the floor. Maybe that was it?”

Zack winced before he ever cast his eyes down to the side of the bed where he saw the mess of scattered pieces and the board flat on the floor. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He looked Cloud over: his hair was a little disheveled and his t-shirt sat askew.

“No. I’m fine. You sure you’re okay?” Cloud reached out to Zack and brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over Zack’s face. 

The touch felt abrasive. Zack flinched but fought against it. Fought against any appearance that might make Cloud think twice about touching him.“Yeah. Yeah. I just… need a minute.” Zack exhaled a heavy breath and got his bearings—he was in the hospital. He saw the TV, the flowers—Cloud. Nothing mattered except for Cloud. He reached out and curled his fingers around Cloud’s shoulders. He pulled gently to test the waters. Cloud yielded and leaned forward. Zack wrapped his arms around Cloud and hugged him tight against himself. This felt better. Cloud felt solid and real and when he slid his arms around Zack’s back—when his fingers pressed into Zack’s shirt and formed divots against his skin, Zack sank into Cloud and breathed deep.

He felt so safe, comforted, and cared for. He felt protected. Cloud’s touch, heat, and scent leeched the terror out of his bones. It quietened the tempo of his heart and let him rest for a few moments. His mind sat still and he just _was_ with Cloud.

The peace passed though. Thoughts infiltrated his head. What would happen if he had a freak-out like this at work? How could he cover that up? Suddenly, his missing leg didn’t feel like the biggest threat to his job and career prospects. He held Cloud tighter as he clenched against the pain that realization brought with it.

“Zack,” Cloud wheezed. “Too tight.” 

Zack let go. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Cloud’s smile made Zack believe it. The man checked his watch. Zack’s heart sank. “Time to go?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. I was just checking to see when dinner’s getting here.”

Cold dread churned Zack’s gut. He didn’t know how he’d be able to stomach anything if Cloud wasn’t here. “I want you to stay.”

Cloud smiled softly. “Okay. Should I go get us something or do you want to wait to see what Francis will bring us?”

“He’s not going to bring us anything that we’d want to eat. Maybe you can quickly go grab us something.” He didn’t like the idea of Cloud going but as long as he’d be back soon Zack could live with it. 

“Burgers?”

“Burgers would be amazing. Thank you, Cloud.” Zack cracked a smile.

Cloud left to get them dinner and Zack felt immensely fortunate to have Cloud’s caring company. He did despise the fact that Cloud had seen him like that _yet again_ though. He couldn’t help but wonder what Cloud thought. _Really_ thought. Did he find him pathetic? Did he _pity_ him? Zack didn’t want anyone's pity. He wanted to be strong and dependable. He wanted to be _desirable_ to Cloud. How could he be with so many major failings constantly rearing their ugly heads? 

He thought back on their hug. A man who was disgusted and repulsed wouldn’t have hugged him back like that. Or would he? It frustrated Zack. He frustrated himself. His body. His mind. _Fuck_. Zack punched the bedding. He hoped he could get better from all of this, and fast.

### 

Once Zack was cleared from bed-rest—around mid-September and maybe a little sooner than recommended (Zack had been very adamant that his wound was fine and healed, and his bosses wanted to see him up and about as well, which worked in his favor)—he was on his foot again doing his rehabilitation.

Zack had a pretty rigorous schedule to keep him busy. Now that his final operation was done, and he was sufficiently healed, he could _seriously_ get to work. The weight of his load-bearing exercises increased, a larger variety of stability circuits were on offer, he was finally let back into the hydrotherapy pool, and fresh attention was put onto falls training and how to get himself up from various circumstances—though Zack thought himself an expert at getting up already anyway. He’d never admit that to anyone except for Cloud, and jokingly with Kunsel, who visited occasionally.

Zack still had people from the military around. Sometimes journalists tried to sneak in, but at least Connie and Lionel were good guard dogs; Zack glowered every time he knew Lionel to be on shift when Cloud came for a visit. He tried to distract Cloud from the unpleasant run-ins. Tried to make Cloud laugh and hoped his company would be enough to offset all the negative feelings Cloud held. If he could just make Cloud forget that unpleasant people existed, make him forget that anything was wrong with him—by acting in control and overblow his own achievements—then maybe Cloud would want to stay in touch—get close—maybe even be receptive to a kiss… if Zack ever built up the resolve to try for one.

He thought he was well on his way to broaching the subject with Cloud. The knowledge that he’d be getting his prosthetic in a weeks’ time bolstered his mood and self-confidence. He thought if he stood and walked without the need for a crutch he might just feel worthy of asking Cloud out on a proper date. So he did all the things he needed to do to get his body ready. This also included hydrotherapy.

He went down to the pool—a fairly long trek to make in his condition—twice a week. At first, he’d been really against the idea of getting into the water because being out in public in long swim shorts and his body all exposed made him shudder. But Brad, his OT, had insisted on it. The first time had been horrifying. He’d gone into the water with a shirt on—something he’d never dreamed of doing and would have laughed at in the past. The water had felt _incredible_. It was the only reason why he subjected himself to that humiliation on a regular basis.

Whenever he went to the pool he worked on his mobility and enjoyed the added benefit that the water’s buoyancy brought to his body: he felt light, unburdened, and the warm water soothed his body and pulled any aches he usually felt right out of his leg. This is what he came for. This is why he endured such a public place: there were elderly women and men around who walked laps in the pool, wheelchair-bound people with things like cerebral palsy who had their physios in the water with them, and there even was a small swim class present, made up of parents with their toddlers. Zack had ‘if you’re happy and you know it’ stuck in his head far more often than he’d like to admit thanks to the baby swim classes going on a good portion of the time. But it also helped him to feel oddly at easy.

The songs and the people with their various mobility issues all set the atmosphere: this wasn’t a normal pool. There was a purpose to it. It was a _therapy_ pool and not one to hang out at and check out all the gorgeous bodies on display. Zack definitely would never be able to hang out at pools or beaches ever again, so he figured since this was his only chance left to enjoy the water, that he’d make the most of it. It made the humiliation bearable. 

So far he hadn’t felt humiliated but it all changed when one afternoon he spotted a familiar mop of blond hair enter the pool hall. Sheer panic pulled him down into the water as he let go of his paddleboard and sank into the warm liquid. Maybe he could drown and save himself from the horror of Cloud seeing him like this? But then he thought of Cloud seeing him _anyway_ , but all dead and cold and bloated, and even _less_ attractive than before—what the fuck was Cloud doing here? Was something wrong? Had there been an emergency? Zack emerged. He swiped the sopping wet hair out of his eyes, flung the longer tresses back, and wiped the water from his face. He looked for Cloud, who spotted him, waved, and headed around the edge of the pool.

Cloud didn’t look distressed. Zack grew mortified. He felt about as graceful as a drowned rat in the water. He’d gone to the deeper end too, just to be away from most of the other people around.

Zack didn’t know what Cloud was doing here but he supposed he had to go meet him at the ledge. He took his board in one hand and paddled and kicked his way over slowly, so not to look too inelegant. Why was Cloud here? Why did he have to see him like _this?_ Despite the shirt he wore, he still felt naked.

“Hey, Cloud. What’s up?” he said loudly, to be heard over the reverberating sounds of splashes, singing, and chatter that filled the pool hall. He pushed the board up onto the tiled floor and held on to the side of the pool, with his body submerged as much as possible.

“I went to your room but you weren’t there.”

Zack smiled as he held on to the wall and tread water as best as he could. “Ah, yeah… I usually have these sessions in the morning. But today there was a Code Yellow, which either means that one of the kids pooped or spewed in the pool. Not sure which one and I don’t wanna think about it.” He grinned up at Cloud.

Cloud pulled a face but laughed. “I assume it’s all cleaned up now.”

“I’d hope so. Pretty sure I drank some of the water.”

Cloud laughed harder, which made Zack smile broader.

Cloud crouched down on the balls of his feet close to the pool. “Bernice told me where you were. I hope it’s okay that I came down. You always say the walk to and from this place is long. I thought I could keep you company heading back up to your room when you’re done.”

Zack’s heart squeezed tight with affection. His discomfort also heightened. He’d been trying to paint a _good_ picture of himself for Cloud. Hydrotherapy was where he felt at his worst. Was his shirt floating up unappealingly? Could Cloud see his scars? “Yeah, that’d be cool. I think I let time get away from me. Probably should have been out of here half an hour ago.” He _really_ wished he’d left an hour ago. This very moment could have been avoided if he hadn’t gotten sucked into how nice the water felt against his body.

Zack made to lift himself out of the pool. He splayed his fingers against the tiled gutter where the wash of the waves flowed down into the drains and recycled back into the pool. With a deep breath and a hope and a prayer that his arms wouldn't tremble horrifically, or his shirt wouldn’t ride up, or his swim-shorts wouldn’t come off, he collected himself and _heaved_ and kicked with his one functional leg.

Cloud stood up and quickly got out of the way.

Zack had meant to rotate and twist gracefully to come to a seated position, to face the pool, but ended up on the tiled floor, belly-flopped like a seal that basked on a rocky outcrop. He groaned and winced into the floor. Why was he such a graceless elephant seal today?

“Need a hand?”

Zack waved at Cloud. Heat rose to his cheeks and a resounding, ‘ _Fuck,’_ rang through his head. He tucked his arms and right knee under himself and pushed up onto all threes. Why was he such a colossal failure? It’s like he turned into a blundering fool when Cloud was around. He’d gotten himself out of the pool countless times without a single misstep. He huffed, rotated, and sat at the edge of the pool like he had meant to do earlier. He flashed Cloud a grin and gave him a thumbs up. “Can you go grab me my crutches?” Zack pointed to the wall which ran parallel to the pool. He needed some space to breathe and regroup.

His shirt clung to him in a most unappealing manner. He felt like it highlighted all his raised scars and sat pressed into all the missing chunks of his flesh—front and back. He sat up straight and pulled at the fabric. He quickly wrung some water out before Cloud returned with his crutches.

He looked over his shoulder—Cloud stood near the crutches but had his sights directed at Zack, like he was a disgusting oddity. Cloud smiled. Zack looked away. His heart sank and broke. Cloud’s gaze felt like he saw too much. To Zack, it felt the same as when the military assessors came in to watch him swim. It felt worse coming from Cloud. Zack clicked his tongue. All the work he’d put in got ruined by one stupid mistake. 

“Here you go.” Cloud walked over and held out the crutches.

Zack grabbed them, overcome with shame and embarrassment. He yanked—too hard—too angry. Cloud stumbled. He fell. Headfirst into the heated pool. Zack watched in slow motion. His eyes and mouth widened with horror. Water splashed and hit him square in the face. He wiped at his eyes and hair and stared down into the water. Bubbles were everywhere. Cloud’s head popped up and his cute fluffy hair was deflated and clung to his skull. Cloud spluttered and splattered. He bobbed in the water and wiped the mop of blond out of his eyes.

“Fuck! Zack! What the fuck?” Cloud snapped and shot Zack a deathly glare.

Zack should have been mortified over what he’d done, but Cloud looked like a drowned dog and Zack howled with laughter at the sight. He somehow felt better about himself. “Oh my god, Cloud,” he squeezed out past hysterics. “Look at you! Your hair!” He laughed some more and desperately clutched his middle.

There came a loud splash. Cloud grabbed Zack’s wrist—painfully so—and yanked. Zack fell in. He got a mouthful of water, kicked up, and scrambled to locate the wall. As he pulled himself to the surface a loud and agitated whistle sounded. The lifeguard shouted, “No playing in the pool!”

Zack groped around to find the lip of the pool and clung on with one hand while with his other he swept his hair back out of his eyes. Cloud was right next to him and wore a deep scowl. Zack huffed and puffed and brushed at his face as water poured down over his eyes. He smiled and smiled and smiled. Cloud’s stern stare broke. They burst out laughing.

“What the hell, man?” Cloud pushed Zack’s shoulder playfully.

“Sorry. That was a total accident. Guess I don’t know my own strength.” He grinned.

Cloud’s smile mellowed out a fraction. “I could have hit my head and drowned.”

“Ahh, lucky for you, I know mouth to mouth.” Zack, emboldened, winked and licked the water off his lips.

Cloud shoved the heel of his palm into Zack’s shoulder. Zack lost contact with the wall. He laughed as he watched Cloud haul himself out of the pool with a cascade of water behind him as he got onto dry land. Moments later Cloud pulled something out of his pocket.

Zack gasped. “Is your phone okay?”

Cloud checked it. “Yeah. You’re super lucky it’s water-resistant.”

Zack’s heart hammered. He nodded and quietly said, “I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck. I’m soaked. I’m gonna get water everywhere.” Cloud wrung the water out of his hair and pocketed his cell.

“You can have one of my shirts,” Zack said and hoisted himself out of the water with a grunt. This time, he stuck the landing and plopped his ass on the floor, instead of his belly. “I’m kinda running low, but I’m sure I can find a clean one for ya. I think I need to get more laundry done. Now that I'm up I'm sweating through everything.”

Cloud stopped all motions and he stared at something behind Zack. Zack swiveled his head to see what Cloud looked at: an elderly gentleman walked around the back area of the pool hall.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just wring these out. They only need to be dry enough to not drip everywhere,” Cloud said hastily.

Zack turned back to look up at Cloud—his heart lurched and sat in his throat. Cloud had his shirt over his head—took it off and squeezed the water out of it. Zack’s gut twisted. Heat engulfed him and his pulse revved and throbbed like a motor came alive in his innards. Cloud was absolutely gorgeous: his small waist, those hips, the tight skin over his abs as he breathed deeply, the way his biceps popped as he used his strength to squeeze the water from his shirt. Water ran in rivulets down the valleys of Cloud’s lean muscles. Zack wanted to chase the small streams with his tongue. Wanted to trace every inch of Cloud’s delicate pale skin. The sight of rosy pink nipples made Zack’s fingers itch with a need to tweak.

If Zack had been standing his legs—leg—would have shaken. Cloud was too beautiful and perfect. Zack felt his inadequacy. It dulled the throb in his stomach and groin. He snapped his head away as Cloud eyed him. He scowled at the ground and reached for his crutches, pulled them close, and got up the way he’d been taught. 

“I’m really sorry,” Zack murmured, unable to look at Cloud, who was still shirtless, but now worked on wringing out his socks.

“You should be. I can’t believe you did this to me. You’re a clumsy shithead.”

Zack nodded. “I am. I’m so sorry. I’ve got a spare towel. Let’s go to the lockers.”

They did, slowly. Zack had to be careful so he wouldn’t slip on the wet surface. He carefully planted his foot, made sure the crutches were flush against the tiles as he went—he'd slipped before. He loathed the idea of it happening again; not in front of Cloud, he half-pleaded with himself. 

At least those thoughts kept his mind off Cloud’s bare chest. Shit, the guy was so handsome though. Zack had touched Cloud over his clothes, but now he wanted to touch him _under_ and do a lot more to boot. He bet that Cloud’s skin felt silky soft. He slipped. He caught himself.

"Hey, careful. You okay?" Cloud asked, his hands poised to catch Zack.

"Yeah." Zack grinned. His heart jackhammered. He paid attention to where he walked. "I'm so sorry for getting you all wet."

"It's okay." Cloud scowled.

"I'm _reall_ y sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. You owe me."

"Of course. Anything you want. You name it, I'll get it for ya."

Cloud looked over at Zack as they went.

Was it too brazen to hope that Cloud would request a kiss? _Hoped_ he would? Zack could totally fulfill that request… if asked. If he knew Cloud wanted it—him. How could anyone want him like _this?_

"Maybe…" Cloud murmured.

"Yeah?"

"A game of chess—proper rules."

Zack laughed, amused, but also disheartened. "Sure. I'll give it my best shot… but take it easy on me."

Cloud nodded. "Gongaga rules if you need them."

"You are so good to me." Zack batted his eyes at Cloud and inhaled deeply against the shivers of pleasure that Cloud's smile brought out in him. He still wished Cloud had asked for something more intimate. He was such an idiot to hope. If he still had his leg—or if his body didn't look like it did, maybe he'd be able to do something with his desires and wants. Maybe he could sweep Cloud off his feet.

But he wasn't enough. Cloud deserved so much better than the shell of a man that he was. Cloud deserved the man he used to be. Competent, confident, able. A man of action who got shit done and had chiseled abs and pecs, instead of this guy who needed crutches, whose body had literally been shot to shit, and whose goddamn mental issues flared up when a fucking _chessboard_ fell to the ground! 

Zack was utterly pathetic. He’d been reduced and diminished. He had to work hard to swallow down that lump of disgust.

Luckily, a distraction came when Cloud asked him what he’d been doing: how many laps, and whether or not he could identify any improvements, ‘no matter how small.’ It went some way in easing the cascading disastrous thoughts which revolved around wondering how he’d ever recover, if he’d ever get back into shape, when he’d be able to walk without needing such unsightly supports.

Once Zack got his bag from the locker they headed to the changerooms—which were all occupied as the group sessions finished up and people made to go home. 

They waited around. Cloud towel-dried himself off, pressed more water out of his shirt, and, thankfully, put it back on, though now it was slightly translucent and clung to his chest and showed off those enticing pert nipples. 

Zack rubbed his lips together and tried not to stare at Cloud. It had been a really long time since he'd had sex. A few weeks before his life had fallen apart. Who had it even been with? Someone he'd met at a bar. He'd felt so virile and, frankly, horny before he woke up in hospital. And after… he’d lost all interest in intimate touches. But Cloud stirred it up in him again. Slowly. With time. And now he felt hot like a raging volcano ready to erupt and burn and spill. Maybe it was part of the healing process? A path to make his way back to himself? He didn't like the lusty need inside himself though. Didn't like this feeling directed at Cloud. What he felt inside wasn't good enough to associate with Cloud. These feelings were fine for one-night stands and random moments of blowing off some steam. They weren’t good for the soft, warm affection he held for Cloud. But, God, if he didn't wonder what Cloud would taste like as he spilled into his mouth while he tweaked those nips.

Zack shivered with that thought and shifted his grip on his crutch. Exhaustion overcame him and sapped his strength. He felt his knee buckle under his own weight. His day's activities had drained him and it finally caught up to him. No amount of Cloud could distract him from that fact.

“Should we just go?” Cloud asked, though his jeans dripped and left deep puddles where they stood.

“You need to wring your pants out, don’t you?”

Cloud rubbed his hair, which stuck out every which way like an adorable shaggy dog that had just been bathed and blow-dried, but not brushed. “Maybe I’ll just go home.” 

That answer wasn’t at all what Zack wanted to hear. “Did you bring a van or your bike?” Though he thought he knew the answer since Cloud wasn’t wearing his ass-hugging sexy pants.

“Van.”

“Then you’ll get your seat all wet. Just come up to my room. I definitely have some spare slacks you can borrow.”

“No, Zack, that’s alri—”

Zack clicked his tongue in rapid succession. “No. C’mon. I’ve decided. Screw waiting in line. I’m getting cold and tired and bored.” Zack headed to the door, confident that Cloud would follow. He needed to move. He couldn’t stand the thought of Cloud looking at him any longer.

Cloud did follow, though he protested most of the way back to the main hospital as he worried how cold it was, especially since Zack was in shorts, barefoot, and dripped. Zack reassured him that if they went quickly they wouldn’t be out in the cold for long and would minimize the drips in the hallways, which meant that Bernie wouldn’t be after them. 

They made it to the main hospital and went up to the fifth floor, where they went down the hall as quickly and discreetly as possible, past the nurses’ station, and to Zack’s room while Zack talked Cloud’s ear off. He asked him questions about his day, to distract himself from the chill that had settled in his skin and bones from the September gusts they had walked through. He also hoped he could distract Cloud from the fact that _Lionel Jensen_ stood near the watercooler and talked to Connie as they changed shifts.

Once inside of the warm room and safe from prying eyes, Zack offered, “You go first,” as he pointed to the bathroom.

“No, you first,” Cloud insisted.

“You’re dripping more than me.”

“I think we’re both dripping the same. You look cold. Go have a warm shower.”

Zack huffed and grit his teeth, which chattered. “At least grab yourself some slacks and get changed out of your jeans."

Cloud, at least, agreed to that. Zack tried to prepare a coffee but Cloud came back out after half a minute. He wore a pair of Zack’s slacks and carried his soaked jeans over to the sink where he promptly began to squeeze the excess water out.

“Comfty?” Zack asked.

“Yeah. Thanks for these. I’ll bring ‘em back to you.”

“No worries. I was just making you a coffee.”

“I can do that myself. Go get dry. I’m cold just looking at you.”

Zack chuckled and lingered for a few seconds. Cloud in the too-big-for-him clothes made him smile. He wanted to see Cloud dressed in one of his jacket hoodies. He could already imagine how sickeningly adorable he’d look. 

Zack excused himself and went to have a shower. He stayed under the hot spray for a considerable amount of time, with one hand on the railing for support and the other on his leg. He massaged his tired muscles as best he could. He’d always been told he had to massage his stump—had been shown how to do it, had been talked through how ‘your body is different now, but the more you touch it the more acceptable and familiar it will become to you’. 

His OT hadn’t left him alone until he did the blasted massages, so he did them, but absolutely hated them. He missed his leg. He hated the lumpy flabby mass of soft tissue that sat at the end of his thigh. He missed his strong muscles. His firm knee. He rubbed himself down and grimaced as he reached and kneaded his fingers into the disgusting flesh. He felt the metal rod protrude… that at least… he liked. That would be his salvation to allow him to return to an iota of normalcy. He could get behind medical science if it meant he had a shot at his old life. At least there was some small positive to be had.

He finished his massage and honed in on the feel of the shower spray which prattled down his body, over the still sensitive and also numb places of his skin. He thoughtfully ran his fingers over his chest, over the crater near his heart—he winced and sought solace in the patches of smooth skin that served as bitter reminders of how he used to be. Was he vain? Maybe. Probably. He thumbed the scar on his face. That one had hurt. That one had pricked him with the smallest sense of fear. Why couldn’t it have been higher? Right in the side of his head? Zack formed a gun-shape with his hand and rested it at the side of his head. He breathed out, _“Bang,”_ and pulled the make-believe trigger on himself.

He had no tears to shed. He felt vacant inside. He’d had more visits from those who held his fate in their hands. He missed being in charge of his life. Yes, he worked for the military: they said jump, he asked how high. Maybe he’d been too blind. Too blinded by the prospects of victory. Blinded by the dreams of accolades and being a proper hero. He’d believed even when his gut had told him something had been off. He'd requested for an extra special ops team to accompany them. He’s been told to go. They had gone in there ill-prepared. Nothing could have prepared them for that ambush. They shouldn’t even have been there. The intelligence had been all wrong. On purpose? That thought made him sick. He should have waited. Stuck to his guns and waited. Had they waited everything could have been avoided. The ambush. The loss of lives. How many of his squad could he have saved? He would have happily died out there first if it had meant a swift retreat for everyone else.

With a defeated click of his tongue he turned off the water, sufficiently warm and his fingers very pruned. Cloud waited for him outside. His one silver lining in this disaster of a situation. He released his grip on the side-rail and grabbed his crutch. His hand slipped. The crutch clattered to the tiled floor. Zack grunted with irritation. With a firm grip on the hand-rail, he bent down—the door flung open.

“Zack! Are you okay?”

Zack snapped his head up and saw Cloud stare at him with wide-open eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Get the fuck out of here,” Zack screeched, horrified over the exposure.

Cloud slammed the door shut. A muffled, "I'm so sorry," sounded.

"You should be," Zack snarled with his heart in his throat and agitation in his veins. He took a deep breath. His body trembled from the strain of standing and bending, and from the embarrassment of the situation. 

He took another deep breath and calmed himself. The water hit his back as he still stood, stooped. He grabbed his crutch and moved away from the shower, drying himself, and called out, “Cloud, I’m sorry.”

He dressed as quick as he could but when he came out Cloud was gone. The slacks he’d worn rested on the bed, neatly folded. “Fuck!” Panic seized him and Zack hobbled out to the hallway and down to the nurses’ station. Bernie told him Cloud had left.

“Fuck.” He’d upset Cloud. _Again._ Maybe Cloud had seen too much? Had felt revolted? _“Fuck!”_

Did he need to call Aerith to call Tifa? Did he have to send another bouquet saying he was sorry? He decided to watch and wait, completely unsure of himself or where he stood with Cloud. He hoped Cloud would give him an answer. Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thematic songs for this chapter from the playlist -  
> [ Love Language by Crooked Colors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W92z8e1GdKI)  
> [ As I Am by Goo Goo Dolls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9h8bU1W4UE)
> 
> Sorry, not sorry about the cliff hanger.
> 
> This chapter was the start of some of the major structural edits I made to the story when I went on break. What was originally chapter 15 I’ve fleshed out and split into two different chapters. I’m proud of all the details I put into this section. It really helped me get into Zack’s headspace. 
> 
> And that was kind of important because we are going to be tagging along with Zack for a while as he’s having the more interesting journey now. Do strap in.
> 
> Thank you to Capt. BA for all the chatter. The hydrotherapy scene was born out of some of that. A big ‘thank you’ goes to her also for the drawing of shirtless Cloud - [the tweet](https://twitter.com/CaptBA1/status/1350914608274550784) and [Tumblr](https://capt-ba.tumblr.com/post/640594302528028672/shirtless-irritated-modern-au-cloud-strife-who) is here. Please support her 🙏. I’d like to say that Cloud isn’t quite that ripped in the fic (the pic is more for me than for the sake of the story 🤭🤤👌) but I also easily imagine that Zack _sees_ Cloud exactly like that as he’s beginning to thirst for him quite hard. I really love that image. Could just gnaw on Cloud’s body * _fans self_ *.
> 
> This chapter was also one where the guys just took control of the writing and said ‘we don’t want to slow-burn to a crisp anymore. We want to finally put an end to our suffering’ and Zack jumped the gun and confessed his feelings - which you can read about here [on my Tumblr page](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/Kintsukuroi-ch15-love_confession). But I told Zack he couldn’t do that and gave him a dose of PTSD as punishment for taking too much initiative. 
> 
> This story’s also inspired me so much that I’ve started my own garden of zinnia and forget-me-nots. Currently growing them from seeds. The forget-me-nots are refusing to sprout, while the zinnia are raring to go. Much like Cloud and Zack, respectively 🤭 I hope I’ll have a lovely garden one day to pose my Cloud and Zack figurines in. Wish me luck!
> 
> I've only got the last two chapters of this story to massively edit. If everything goes well in the next two weeks I'll start posting chapters weekly come the beginning of February. If I need a bit more time this 'one chapter every two weeks' could drag out a bit longer. I'm very happy with how the story's developed since I've been giving myself more time.
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated, even when I lack the mental capacity to respond to some of the things you are talking to me about. I really love and appreciate the interactions. Just knowing people seem to love the story as much as I’ve loved writing it fills me with so much joy. So thank you, one and all!


	16. Price of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With discharge day looming large, Zack’s running out of time to sort himself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for Zack’s stewing thoughts and feelings: PTSD, death wishes. Also a warning for mentions of past relationships… I guess? Does that need a warning? You're getting one. Generally speaking, a great big red 'whump' warning for this chapter. You read the chapter titles, right? Read the chapter title 😅  
>  _*hands you a tissue box, just in case you might need it later.*_ I don't guarantee tears, but I do guarantee pain. I don't know what to give you for that. Painkillers? A pillow? Alcohol? 😂
> 
> This chapter's also long? 17k. Anything over 10k is just normal now though.🤭

Zack woke up each day and hoped to see Cloud waltz into his room in the afternoon. With each passing day where this didn't happen, the urge to call Cloud through the shitty hospital landline system, grew bigger and bigger. 

He couldn't just do that though. He didn’t have Cloud’s number. It became apparent how much he needed Cloud to come over for them to have any sort of contact. It was really annoying. He hated not having a cellphone—not that he really missed having one. He hadn’t owned a cell in years. He told himself he’d ask Aerith next time she called. 

He knew he had her number written down in his address book, but he hadn’t bothered to look for it just yet. There was something about having to reach out to her in order to get his own shit with Cloud sorted which didn't sit right with him. He didn't want her to feel like he used her like that: only calling her when he needed something. He would call her if he grew really desperate though. 

He tried not to dwell on his lack of contact with Cloud—or the outside world in general. A part of him liked the cocoon the hospital spun around him. It meant he could focus on what was important: his recovery. Or at least he tried to focus on it. Half the time, he found himself stuck in a vacant stare while he stood around or while he held stretches. Brad and Syd, his physical therapists, would break the spell with their pointed reminders that he should move on to the next exercise and body movement. 

His current life circumstances made it hard to feel enthusiastic about waking up in the mornings. He hadn’t felt this down—this exhausted—since the early days of waking from his coma. Well, admittedly, he wasn’t _quite_ as out of it as back then, but he also didn’t think he’d felt quite as low as back then. Even when all the stuff with the amputation had crept up on him. Well, okay, maybe that _had_ been quite a low point. He at least still shaved. Back then he didn’t even care to do that. The fact that he could get up and move made all the difference. The fact that he had _some_ freedom kept him sane, even when all his other thoughts about work, his future, and Cloud, kept him maddeningly down. 

He slowly hobbled back to his room after a fairly intense physio session with Syd. The hallways were long. The stares directed his way: endless. He tuned it all out and then he ground to a stop when he saw Cloud on the bench near his room with a bouquet in his hands. Cloud rose. Zack snapped out of the stupor and started up again—at double speed. He swung the crutches and used his leg to leap rather than hop.

“Cloud. Cloud! Thank god, you’re back. I’m so sorry," he blurted as he raced forward.

“Hey.” Cloud looked tense but his lips curved with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Hi." Zack panted and came to a standstill before Cloud. "How’ve you been? Are you okay? I’m sorry for what happened."

Cloud’s gaze darted behind Zack, which made Zack mad as he knew _who_ was back there like a vulture eyeing prey. “Come in.” Zack tilted his head and reached for his door. They went inside and he shut it. As soon as it clicked his words tumbled out again, “I’m so sorry that I snapped at you. Please forgive me.”

Cloud looked at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “I need you to forgive me too. I’m so sorry about what happened. I heard a crash and I thought… I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry,” Cloud murmured and averted his gaze.

They stood across from each other. Zack felt Cloud’s discomfort as it acutely mirrored his own.

“I know. I understand. I get it. Thank you for worrying about me," Zack said as he stared at the floor. A part of him always felt warm and full thanks to Cloud's care and worry. The other part of him sat awash with embarrassment as he recalled his full shame of that day. He tried to stay focused on Cloud. “You didn’t have to leave,” Zack said quietly and took a hop forward. "You were still all wet."

A tight smile graced Cloud's lips but fell away in the blink of an eye. “I completely overstepped and made you uncomfortable. I thought it better to give you some space. Here—” Cloud handed Zack the bouquet. “I know that I can’t undo what I did. But I’m really sorry.”

Zack breathed out a deep huff. “Thank you.” He examined the flowers and recognized the blue hyacinth, white lilies, and purple orchids. He smiled at Cloud. He felt terrible for having made him feel terrible. “I’m really sorry that I yelled at you like I did. I just… I…”.”

“No, you don't have to explain. I really get it. I’m so, _so_ sorry for barging in on you,” Cloud retorted, sincerity exuded from his wide blue eyes, and a tight tension sat in his body if the slightly atremble, clenched fists meant anything.

They stood around. Cloud’s vehement apology and the flowers gave Zack some pause for concern. It hadn’t been such a big deal… had it? Unless Cloud… “Ah… y-you didn’t… see anything… right?” he asked with trepidation. Were the flowers a far deeper apology than Cloud let on with his words?

Cloud shook his head. His complexion rosied. “No. Nothing. And—but… even if I did…” He cast his glance aside as he murmured, “You looked fine.”

It was Zack’s turn to feel the heat rise to his cheeks. So Cloud _had_ seen… This was so awkward. What exactly had Cloud seen?… Or thought he’d seen?… Zack gulped. Cloud thought… that he looked _fine?_ Was that a sympathetic _‘I’m so sorry your body got mangled but I’m sure someone out there will still find you attractive if they are half-blind or only focus on your winning smile’_ fine? Or a _‘yo, dawg, you look fiiiine,’_ fine? Somehow Zack felt it was more the first one. 

The flowers in his hand felt heavy with their message of ‘ _Sorry that I find you repulsive. I wish I’d never seen anything. We can definitely never go on a single date because of how disgusting you are, but I’ll still stay your friend.’_

Zack shook his head clear of those thoughts. He was freaking out over nothing.

_“You wanna watch…”_

_“Should we watch… something?”_ They asked over the top of each other and let out gentle huffing laughs.

“Settle in and let me make you a coffee,” Zack directed. He tried to assure himself that Cloud had come back so it couldn’t all be bad news.

Cloud followed the instruction and went to sit in the chair.

"How have you been? Making progress?" Cloud asked in a mousy tone.

Zack already hated how things were different between them. The previous times they'd made up had felt different. And the shame that Cloud’s question brought up for him did nothing to ease his worries. He hadn’t done anything these passing days. He might as well have just stayed in bed for all the time he’d wasted. "Ah, yeah? I’m doing okay, I guess. You know that my doctors’ told me that I can get the temporary practice prosthetic fitted next week?"

"Wow. Already? That's really exciting."

Zack smiled over at Cloud. "Yeah, it is." That had been one bit of news that had been… newsworthy. He didn’t know why he felt so flat about it though. At least Cloud still seemed to care, which came as utter relief—or maybe Cloud only came back to see this process through. He had said once that he'd be here until Zack got out of the hospital. Was that really the hard limit on their relationship? Zack grimaced where he stirred Cloud's coffee. He went over to the small fridge and fetched the milk. 

“What else did you get up to?” Cloud asked.

Zack stalled by the fridge as he scrambled to think back over what ‘good news’ he could possibly share with Cloud. He drew blanks with the insurmountable pressure to perform overcoming him. He frowned and started moving again as he hummed and hawed on his way back to the mug of coffee that still needed his attention. He couldn’t believe how much he’d lagged behind in his rehabilitation. Nothing he thought of seemed good enough to share or brag about. “Ah… I did two squats.”

“I thought you did three and half last time?”

Zack stared. "Shit!" Milk went everywhere as he'd poured too much into the coffee.

"Oh no!" Cloud got up.

"It's okay. I got it under control," Zack said with a wave of his hand. 

"Oh, okay. Yeah. Sorry." Cloud sat back down.

Zack looked over. Had that sounded too snappy? Had he kept it together? He couldn’t tell. He shuffled along the bench to the paper towels so he could mop up the spill. The less he talked right now the better things would be. "How about you put the TV on? Find something we can listen to?" Zack didn’t like being watched. Didn’t like his incompetencies noted.

Cloud did as Zack suggested.

Zack was left to his thoughts as he prepared a second cup of coffee. He worried what kind of a mental image Cloud had of him now. Cloud _had_ been right. He’d done more squats in the past. Zack cursed himself. Why did he mess up so badly over and over again? Why was it so hard to rekindle their easy connection? Had Cloud seen his leg? His stump? How the scars webbed his back and legs? Had he seen the flabby skin? His junk? Had he been small from the cold? Did Cloud think he was small? _Was_ _he_ compared to… General Sephiroth? No. Of course not. Cloud wouldn’t know. Zack told himself he was being stupid. Cloud had never… there was nothing to compare to. But still… This was _General_ Sephiroth he was pitted against… 

Zack frowned and tried hard to drop the thought. He glanced over at the flowers. Forgiveness and sorrow is what they spelled out to him in his limited knowledge of flowers. He'd have to ask Aerith if she knew any other meanings they might possess. He had started something with the forget-me-nots. Cloud had continued with the zinnia. The bouquet felt important. Maybe it explained why everything felt awkward. Or maybe he over-thought everything and _that_ was the reason for the perceived awkwardness? This is what happened when he was left to stew for too many days.

But Cloud had come back all on his own accord, so… 

He held on to that bit of good news and paid attention to the second cup of coffee, which, once it was done, he took over to Cloud and handed it to him. He eased himself onto the bed, scooched back toward the pillows, and discreetly watched Cloud polish off the drink.

“Good, yeah?"

“Yeah. Really good. Thank you, Zack." The warm smile eased the discomfort in Zack's chest.

They watched the TV in silence for a while. Zack misses Cloud's presence on the bed but the strange and unfamiliar shame that burned and tingled across his skin made him feel sensitive to any potential kind of touch. 

When the programming was over Cloud turned off the TV and faced Zack. 

"Yeah?" Zack asked. His heart throbbed in his throat.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." The back of Zack's eyes stung. “You wanna play cards or something?”

Cloud nodded. They broke out a deck and passed the afternoon. Things between them returned to normal. They laughed. They joked. They broke the rules of their card games citing Gongaga or Nibelheim rules to legitimize their dubious moves. 

But then the awkwardness returned when Cloud left. Zack reflexively went in for a hug, but stopped, overly conscious of his body. Of Cloud against him. What had he seen? What did he think? Cloud picked up on the hesitation. He looked down at Zack’s missing leg. Zack grabbed Cloud and pulled him close as best he could to stop the lingering gaze.

“Have a good night, Cloud. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. See ya soon. You get your leg next week?”

“Mhmm. Tuesday.”

“I’ll definitely be there.” Cloud pulled back, smiled, and left. 

A sadness lingered in Zack’s chest. One he couldn’t shake quite so easily despite having loads of things going on in his life. Or maybe it was _because_ he had so much going on in his life? Like _more_ assessors came in and ran him through cognitive tests. His head was fine. He worried that they might find something though. Find out that he’d dropped in his performance. He never felt so incompetent in his life.

Whether for good or bad, another thing that occupied him and took his mind off a lot of things was that his appointed media representative came and introduced herself: Scarlet, the head of military media relations. 

On his first meeting with her he knew he’d be in for a headache.

“You can’t be seen dressed like this,” she criticized while he wore his slacks and loose-fitted tee.

“Why does it matter? No one’s going to see me.”

“Honey, _everybody_ is going to see you. Get that leg of yours on and we’ll hit the trail as you lot say and go on a fabulous tour.”

“Great. Just great.”

“I need you to smile more when you talk.” Absolutely no warmth sat in her words.

Zack found her to be tyrannical in her approach and hated how frequently she visited him. It was worse because the days that led up to him getting fitted for his prosthetic dragged on. The hours he whiled away in Scarlet’s presence felt like decades. The time spent working his legs: flexibility, strength, all felt like fruitless centuries. And the times he labored by himself—desperate to not overthink—but doing so anyway and getting caught up in critical self-talk, might as well have been a wallowing millennia to him.

Cloud came around only once before the leg-fitting, which Zack was acutely aware of.

“Been very busy?” he asked, not expecting a direct response from Cloud. And he half anticipated that anything Cloud said would be an excuse to make him feel better over the fact that Cloud just didn’t want to see him anymore. 

“I… ah… I’ve been a bit… sick the last few days.”

That was all Zack needed to hear to jump into caretaker mode. “Come lie down. I’ll get you a coffee.”

“I’m okay now.”

“Lie down,” Zack commanded and received a small smile.

He really liked to look after Cloud. It felt great to be useful and it was easier than looking after himself. He prepared the coffee and Cloud talked to him from the bed.

“How’ve you been?”

“Ah… yanno…” he shrugged, not sure how to answer. _Miserable?_ Pathetic? _Lonely?_ Missing his Cloud? Feeling like he was getting nowhere in life? Not enjoying the idea of the places he _would_ be going in life after this was all done? “Working my legs and hips. Splashing around. Lifting weights. The usual.”

“How many laps?”

He couldn’t remember. Had lost count. Didn’t care. “Fifteen?”

“Oh. What time?”

“Maybe an hour?” Zack stirred Cloud’s brew while he frowned. Cloud always asked him this stuff, but today he felt sensitive to it. Like he was being interrogated instead of encouraged.

“You usually do that many in half the time.”

Zack threw the spoon onto the counter with a huff. He moved to get the milk. Cloud stayed very quiet. Zack felt awkward. “I’ve had a lot of work stuff going on. I think my mind’s elsewhere and I just end up standing in the pool for a while."

“Oh.”

Yep, definitely awkward. It seemed to happen when Zack opened his mouth about work. Why'd Cloud have to be so _precious_ about it, he wondered with a curl of his lip.

“I saw an article about you online,” Cloud said, tentatively.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ve been… sitting a lot of interviews lately.”

“The media ban got lifted?”

Zack shrugged. He poured the milk carefully. Not too much. Not too little. “Must have. This pushy lady, Scarlet, keeps hanging around. You’ll probably see her at some point. Which interview did you see?” Zack tried to remember what he’d even talked about lately. “Was it about my childhood? Or about my training regime before I ended up in here? Oh—or was it the one about my operation?”

“No, it was about your medals and what they mean to you.”

“Ahh, _that_ one.” He scowled at the coffee as he stirred it some more. “I am so proud to serve my country and eternally indebted to my glorious bosses for blah blah blah.” He didn’t know why he felt so bitter all of a sudden. “Did you actually read it? Did it make you cringe?” Zack laughed about it but a heated undercurrent ran through him. He finished preparing the coffee and carefully hobbled his way over to the bed to bring it to Cloud.

“I browsed through. I couldn’t stomach the whole thing.” He smiled up at Zack with warmth. “It didn't even sound like you. Kind of made me want to throw up a little—thanks.” He took the mug.

Zack couldn’t tell if Cloud was joking or not. Maybe half. It twisted his gut. “They make me say stuff.” He defended and sat down in Cloud’s chair and rested the crutches on the railing. 

“I was just kidding. It was a good article,” Cloud murmured and hid behind the mug of coffee.

Zack wished he also had something to hide behind. He didn’t appreciate Cloud’s humor right now. He didn’t want to dwell on it. “I think Scarlet absolutely loves the phone interviews because she can make me read off cue cards. She’s got one for every question imaginable. You should see it. The big box of cards. She knows _exactly_ where things are and hands me things before the question ever even finishes.” Zack shuddered thinking back on it. “She’s scary.”

“Scarier than Bernice on a bad day?”

“Yeah. _Much.”_

They both shuddered. Cloud sipped his coffee. “Mmm, it’s really good, thanks, Zack.”

A brittle flutter of joy danced in Zack's chest. “Glad ya like it,” he barely managed to get out. The words almost died in his throat. 

Everything felt wrong today. Normally, he'd be joking with Cloud about stuff by now. They'd probably be holding hands. Zack would have asked to scooch up next to Cloud on the bed. But he kept his distance. 

Cloud blew on his drink and took sips. “Anything else interesting happen?”

Zack hummed and thought of what else he could say that _wouldn't_ make Cloud uncomfortable. "Nothing really."

Cloud hummed.

"What about you? I know you've been sick but… see anything cool?"

"Not really. Though… Tifa told me about a pretty strange delivery."

"Oooh. Sounds exciting. Tell me about that."

And so Cloud did and it chased away the awkwardness once they both began to laugh. 

But once again, the disquieting feeling remained well after Cloud had gone, despite the visit having ended on a good note.

### 

The closer Zack got to receiving his prosthesis the harder it felt to get up in the mornings, especially when faced with a long list of work-related activities that needed his attention. The discomfort kept growing. The longer he flagged behind the worse his worries got that he'd be found out and instantly dismissed. Maybe even let go before he ever got his leg. 

He felt frustrated over none of his support workers calling him out about his lackluster performance. 

“You can tell me, yanno,” he said to his physio, Syd, after a session.

“Tell you what?”

“That I’m lagging behind.”

“You’re not.”

All the charts with their upward trends meant nothing to Zack. He couldn’t understand why no one picked up on the sharp drop in his improvements. The line on the graphs tapered out and looked more like a flatline than a mountain of success. He pointed it out. Was told that this was normal. Something about that answer ground his gears. He just had to try harder. But the energy and drive wasn’t there. He couldn't concentrate—too worried about what his bosses would say about his flagging performance. Would they even care? What was the point of getting fit when all he was going to amount to was to become a showpony for Scarlet to paraded around? Because that's what was going to happen. Every time he got stuck in a conversation with Scarlet it felt as inevitable as the sun rising each morning. She had so many plans for him. Too many plans. 

He wasn't sure who to turn to. He felt like he had no options, especially being stuck in hospital. He’d always had a love/hate relationship with the hospital. On the one hand, he’d been able to rest and—as Cloud had told him once—think of this place as a vacation from his everyday life. As his previous life knocked on the door though the hospital felt more like a snare or noose he'd gotten trapped in rather than a place for respite. He felt like the longer he lingered in hospital—the longer he was away from his previous life—the harder it would be to get back there. The obstacles seemed to double and triple every other week. It felt harder to prove himself and to show his worth. He wanted and _needed_ to prove himself, and he’d only be able to achieve that once he regained his freedom. 

So the urge to get out of the hospital was high. He wished he'd been discharged months ago. And yet a part of him… also never wanted to leave…. That confused thought and feeling tainted everything.

Like the day that should have been the most exciting thing to have happened to him recently: receiving his prosthetic. He should have been _pumped._ But he wasn't. He put on the airs for others, but inside he didn't know what to really feel.

The fact that he was getting his first go on a prosthesis sat like a heavy boulder in his gut. There were good things about the processes finally starting that would see him receive his prosthetic leg. Of course there were. Yet… there were also a lot of _realities_ attached to it.

He couldn’t escape any of it. Couldn’t run away. Couldn’t run. Maybe he could once he had a leg though. He missed running. Missed being active. Didn’t appreciate how everything was a struggle and would be _yet again_ once he got his leg. Brad, his OT, had told him as much, to set his expectations straight. Having realistic expectations only served to depress him though.

When Zack’s family arrived, and then Aerith, and then _Cloud_ they at least provided him with distractions from his spiraling thoughts. Seeing them excited in turn excited him. When others were with him—when he wasn’t left alone in the echo chamber of his thoughts—the next phase of his recovery felt less like a death sentence.

Zack and his entourage went to the physiotherapy rooms. 

“How are you feeling?” Cloud asked as he walked alongside Zack and Aerith, who followed Zack’s parents, who followed Brad, and Syd to their location.

“This is so exciting.” Aerith clapped her hands together and grinned.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to throw these crutches away.” Zack grinned at both his companions.

“You probably should hold off throwing them away,” Cloud said.

Zack smiled. “Of course. Thanks for the reminder, Nanny Cloud.”

“Nanny Cloud.” Aerith giggled.

“He’s always taking such good care of me, yanno, Aer," Zack explained.

“Oh, I believe it. Cloud’s got a real mom-streak in him. Very no-nonsense, but so warm and caring when you get an ouchie.” Aerith tittered.

“But afterwards he’ll never let you hear the end of your dumb mistake,” Zack said with solemn gravity.

He and Aerith giggled as they went.

Cloud sighed. “Don’t make me turn you guys around and march you back to your room.”

Zack and Aerith giggled harder. Cloud smiled, which eased Zack's sudden spike of worry that he might have overstepped with the teasing.

But things must have been okay because Cloud said, "You two are such children." And then the jokes started flowing, which eased Zack's heart tremendously.

Once they reached the physiotherapy room, however, Zack turned serious as Brad sat him down to begin the lecture and tutorial about the Wonderful World of Prosthetics, as Brad called it.

Zack’s attention slipped when Bernie entered the room.

“Awww, Bernie! What’re you doing here? You want to see me walk too?”

“I’m here to make sure that Scarlet woman doesn’t barge in. She’s looking for you, wanting to do some interviews. I told her _not now.”_

“Aww, Bernie. You’re my guardian angel!” he cooed. The excitement of the moment dulled. He knew he’d have to deal with Scarlet once he was finished here. She'd been frothing at the mouth for him to get his leg for 'photo ops'. He absolutely hated that but got his head back on task. Brad continued his comprehensive rundown on how the test-leg (which would be a closer proxy for his leg when he finally got it) worked: the micro-compressor knee and how it pivoted and acted like a spring, the locking mechanics, and proper prosthetic care.

“Sorry if this is boring for you, guys,” Zack said to the room, aware of everyone staring at him.

A burst of, “Oh, no, it’s fine. Take your time.” “Don’t be so silly, this is very important.” “It’s okay, honey.” “We’re here for you,” sprung up.

Once Zack showed his competency with attachment and detachment of the prosthetic he was given his crutches and helped to his _feet_.

He stood. Both feet planted on the ground. Sure, one wasn’t his and he couldn't feel… not _nothing_. There was a strange sensation and weight. He’d been told that this type of prosthetic would let him actually feel different textures of the ground instead of nothing at all like with a socketed prosthetic… Zack looked forward to trying to walk on different things and what that would be like. He looked forward to _walking!_ Unaided. No stupid crutches. No support. Just him and his legs. He grinned and bathed in relief. When had the ability to stand straight become what felt like a life-long dream? When had the concept of walking become the most exciting thing in his life? He didn’t want to hop, or vault. He wanted to _walk and run._ And it was almost here!

He couldn’t give it a further thought because his mom and Aerith embraced him as they bawled their eyes out. His dad also came over, stood behind, his arms wound around all of them with his long reach. Zack could feel the tremble in his dad’s limbs and the warm tears soaked into the back of Zack's shirt as he, too, was overcome with relief. 

“You guys. It’s okay,” Zack said, not sure if he could be heard over the sniffles and happy cries. 

He looked over the top of heads and gazed at Cloud, who stood across from the sobby huddle of a group. Zack tried to hold on to himself and push down the knot of emotion which constricted his throat. This was a momentous and over-joyous occasion, but as he stared at Cloud: that mellow smile, those glistening eyes, and the tears which slipped down sandy-white-and-freckled skin as he blinked… was Cloud happy for him? Was he relieved that this whole hospital ordeal would soon end? Was he… maybe… just a _little_ _bit_ sad that they wouldn’t have this weird space to share in a month's time? Zack tilted his head to the side. He only wanted Cloud with him right now. He wanted to let go and be held.

Cloud seemed to understand or feel him because he walked over and joined in on the huddle. The only physical contact Zack could get from Cloud though was the touch of their foreheads as Aerith and his mom were in the way. Zack let out a tremendous breath which shook out his held-back sadness and joy, and with it dislodged his tears.

A jumbled mess of emotions sat in Zack’s chest. He was actually on his way to recovery. It had felt impossibly far away, but here he was: a prosthesis finally attached. He’d be able to stand and walk unassisted soon enough. If he worked hard. Boy, did he intend to _work._ It’s like the previous fatigue he’d felt build inside fell away now that he had his tool to recover attached and ready for action. He’d work his butt off and get out of there and… and then… do what exactly? Interviews. Perform like a monkey during PR tours—both for troops and the general public. He wouldn’t see Cloud again. His enthusiasm crumpled. Reality smashed into him sideways.

He wanted out of the hospital. But he didn't want or like the path which lay before him either. The thought of somehow staying in the hospital forever reared its head. He hated that too. Nothing was right. Nothing was good. His future was bleak. 

He hugged his entourage all the harder.

* * *

The remainder of Zack’s day was filled with an excessive amount of things: physio, OT, more interviews. Zack got whisked away by Scarlet but he promised everyone he'd be back.

So when he was only able to go back to his room by the time night fell, he was severely annoyed.

Some—a lot—of the annoyance lifted and energy returned to his limbs when he saw Cloud by the bench close to his door. Definite relief which danced in his chest, yet he also grew concerned over how weary Cloud looked: hair mussed, complexion an unhealthy pale color, and his shirt was far wrinklier than earlier that day. But Zack still smiled as he hobbled over on his crutches.

“Hey, Zack.”

“Cloud. Hey! I didn’t think you’d still be around.”

Cloud shrugged. “I went and got us some dinner.” He held up a plastic bag. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starvin’!” Zack grinned and practically salivated. “Please, come in.” He opened the door for them and they headed in. “I don’t know what’s in there but I’m already looking forward to it. Thank you so much.”

“It’s pasta. I can heat it up for us.”

“Yes, please.” 

Cloud smiled and went to the kitchen’s microwave. Zack could never figure out how he’d ever lucked out having Cloud in his life.

He got smacked with the realization that he wouldn’t have Cloud in his life for very much longer if he didn’t make a move, and _soon._ He’d have to take a crack at asking Cloud out one of these days.

Zack sighed. _One of these days._

“How was the rest of your day?” Cloud asked as he turned and leaned against the kitchen counter while the microwave droned.

“Big and full-on. I'm really sorry about disappearing.”

"It's okay. Your parents were told you'd be busy the rest of the day so we all went away."

"Thank you so much for coming back with dinner. You didn’t wait long, did ya?”

Cloud shook his head and gestured for Zack to go sit down on the bed.

Zack did just that and looked forward to the rest.

"What happens to your prosthetic?"

"Oh, I was only allowed to keep it for the photo shoot." Zack sat with a groan. He stretched his back and arms and forced out an audible _pop!_ "The one I got to try today was only a practice leg. I'm getting my proper one next week. I had some measurements taken.” Zack scooched over to the pillows and sank against the bedding. His body and mind were exhausted. He only felt how much once he rested. “But even when my leg arrives I won’t be allowed to take it out of the therapy room until I’ve ticked all of Brad’s boxes. I’ve got a million sessions booked with him, so I’m sure I’ll pass with flying colors.” He grinned over at Cloud.

“And what happens after that? Can you leave once you’ve got your leg?” Cloud asked.

The press in Cloud’s voice made Zack’s breath hitch. “Yeah, eventually. Hey, can you help me find the remote?”

They located the device and Cloud got them their evening meals. They sat in their usual positions: Zack, in bed, Cloud in the chair that Zack unequivocally associated with his guardian angel. He'd brought in a different chair for guests to sit on, even when Cloud wasn't around. That was _Cloud’s_ seat. No one else’s.

The TV was on; a show aired that they’d seen half a dozen times before. Zack watched and ate, despite having lost his appetite. Thoughts billowed through his head. He thought of the interviews he’d sat today and previously and how this was all his future. He thought about his leg: the one he’d worn today and the one he’d get very soon. He found it odd to have his _leg_ detached from his body and _out there_ somewhere. In the end, it was just another tool, like the crutches he still needed to use. People in his therapy group talked about their prosthetics feeling like part of their bodies—like an extension of themselves. Zack wondered if he’d ever feel the same way about his one. He wondered if he ever wanted to feel that way about the leg. He wondered if he’d ever be free from needing outside support. He hated having lost his independence and having gained a tremendous reliance on machines and tools and people.

A soft rustle and creak sounded from the chair. Zack looked over.

Cloud leaned in, “Are you done?” He held out his hand.

Zack handed him the plate. He’d eaten most of it. “Yeah, thanks. It was delicious.”

Cloud smiled and took the dirty dishes away.

Zack watched Cloud’s back. Unashamedly watched his ass. He wore his leather pants. “You took your bike today?”

“Huh?” Cloud looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. I did.”

“How’d you pick up takeout?”

“I have storage.”

“Ah. What kind of bike do you own?”

“A Hardy-Daytona.”

Zack whistled. “You’ll have to show me one day.”

“Sure.” Cloud smiled over at him.

This felt like the closest they’d ever gotten to talking about some sort of _future._ Zack wanted to freeze this moment. Freeze the hope and freeze that smile on Cloud’s face, and never have either one of them leave. The thought of not seeing Cloud again made his heart oh so heavy like an anvil hung tethered from it. He feared how the ticking time would crack his heart apart—would open a deep chasm and rift between them. But what more could he do? He’d serenaded Cloud. Asked him over for dates. Told him how special he was to him. Somehow, none of it had been enough. At this point, all Zack could think was that it was _him_ and not Cloud. Was it the hospital setting? No. Cloud was probably just not interested.

Panicked, worried, hollow, Zack fought against the thick lump in his throat. He needed to get the words out or risk them dying inside and lying tattered beneath his heart. He cleared his throat. “After I leave the hospital, I’d like to take you out for dinner—as a thank you. I think I mentioned it a long time ago? I’d like to make good on my offer.” A niggly pulse throbbed in his side and he felt like the air was too thin for his lungs. 

Cloud finished with the dishes and turned around, drying his hands on a towel. He stared, his eyes wide, yet blank. For a moment, it felt like Zack's heart stopped beating. But then the smile crept across Cloud's face. "Oh, yeah. That would be nice. Where would you like to go? What do you want to eat? Steak?”

The held-in breath was released. “Yeah, steak,” Zack smiled with greater ease. “You might need to suggest a place though. I’m not familiar with anything around here.”

“Sure. I’ll have a look around and see what sounds good.”

While it hadn’t been the confession and words he’d wanted to get out, it was at least close enough. He had bought himself time with Cloud. That was good enough. That was a little bit of certainty he could hold on to when everything else in his life seemed topsy-turvy.

"Hey, Zack…”

“Yeah?”

“I, um…” Cloud rubbed his lips together and still stood over by the kitchen counter.

“Out with it,” Zack half-laughed. Cloud’s hesitancy made him feel sick.

Cloud walked over and sat down on his chair, “I, ah… are you okay?—I feel like I keep asking you and I’m sorry if it bothers you. You can tell me to stop asking, okay?”

It was a _little_ bit of a bother. “Oh, no. I haven’t noticed. I’m fine.” He tacked on a quirked smile.

The look of concern on Cloud’s flawless face deepened: brows pulled together and lips pursed. Cloud always saw through the fake, which pinched and caused an ache deep in Zack's chest. 

“It kind of feels like you aren’t though.”

Zack raced through plausible options of deniability, but before he could find one, Cloud said, "You… don’t feel like yourself. And I don’t know what it is, and I can’t explain it, but it feels like something’s bothering you. You can talk to me, y’know.”

Zack looked down at his lap. He tucked his hands under his arms. “I know.” He hated that Cloud knew. “I’m okay, really.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Hm?”

“I guess… I just thought you’d be happier now that you’re so close to getting your leg and getting out of here. But you… just feel _sadder_ , and I don’t know if it’s something I did or—”

“No.” Zack leaned over and reached for Cloud. He clasped his forearm. “You didn’t do anything.”

Cloud looked down at the touch and placed his hand on top of Zack’s. He squeezed him. “Then what is it? We haven’t really talked about inside stuff for a while. How are you doing?”

Cloud’s care squeezed Zack’s heart. He huffed and smiled softly but his smile dropped away. Should he really talk to Cloud? What was the point of even thinking that he wouldn’t? _Of course_ he'd talk. He just didn’t know about _what._ The idea of off-loading about his worries was tantalizing. But again… _which_ worries? Work bothered him—scared him… made him feel sick. But Cloud hated the military. Hated the reminders. Zack couldn’t talk to him about this stuff. Not in good conscience anyway. Not without driving Cloud further away from him. He frowned. 

"Don’t get me wrong… when I stood on my own two feet…” That sensation of being tall and straight and (mostly) unaided and _free_ rushed through him and set a twinge off in his eyes. “It was great. I haven’t felt that good in such a long time. I’m happy. But… it’s also not really _my own_ two feet, yanno?”

Cloud nodded. Sorrow softened the edge to his concerned stare. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

Zack let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, understatement, buddy.”

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered.

“Nah, I’m sorry. I know you mean well.” He smiled and slid his hand down Cloud’s arm and to his hand. Their fingers weaved together. They shared a smile. Zack’s chest inflated with longing. How could he ever leave this behind? He needed to tell Cloud. Tell him how he really felt.

“Cloud, I—”  
“You’ll feel so m… sorry. What were you saying?”

The spark of determination fizzed out. Zack huffed out a small smile. Maybe now _wasn’t_ the right time. “No. It’s nothing. You go.” He stroked Cloud’s knuckles.

Cloud looked at their clasped hands before he returned his gaze back up at Zack. “I think you’ll feel a lot better when you are out of here doing what you love.”

That made Zack sigh from the depth of his gut. “I…” The invite was there. Would it kill him to say ‘I love you?’ It would be such a smooth lead-in. All courage vacated his body though. All his failed attempts at showing his interest danced around him. The fact that Cloud had run away when he’d barged in on him a week ago sat heaviest of all on his chest. 

Cloud’s expectant stare made Zack drop his gaze. Cloud would wait for an answer. He wouldn’t demand—not until Zack had another mental breakdown. He smiled in spite of himself. “Is it weird that when I think about leaving this place…" he breathed out with the heavy feeling inside, "I feel sad? I feel like I'll miss it. Miss the people," he locked onto Cloud with purpose. Maybe Cloud would _get it_.

Cloud shook his head and looked away, but squeezed Zack’s hand. 

Zack frowned. He seemed to have a knack for making Cloud uncomfortable. He was pushing too hard again. Or Cloud _really_ didn’t want him. It was probably the second option.

Quietly, Cloud said, “Spending a long time anywhere would make you miss a place.” 

Zack grimaced at the mention of that. “Almost a whole year. I can't believe it.” His life had completely changed. Sure, he never thought _much_ about the future but any thoughts he _had_ spared to it had revolved around work, hanging out with the squad, Christmas parties, and birthdays…. Deathdays nowadays… Zack felt his stomach churn and heat welled behind his eyes.

Cloud squeezed Zack’s hand tightly. A good-natured smile imbued with encouragement graced his lips. Zack melted a fraction over that soft look and reassuring touch. He liked all of Cloud’s small touches. Liked all of Cloud. He reminded himself that he'd secured dinner with him. Maybe it was the hospital. Maybe he’d be able to find his courage when he had a leg and got out of here. That made him feel better. 

“It’s been hectic. But you’re near the finish line now. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Zack nodded and rubbed small circles into Cloud’s hand. He longed to kiss Cloud’s knuckles, pull him into bed, and snuggle him until they both drifted off to sleep. He didn’t want to impose his neediness on Cloud though. The guy had never signed up for this—detested being here, in fact. He didn’t doubt that Cloud genuinely liked him, but he also knew how much pain being in the hospital, and being exposed to all the things Zack embraced as his day-to-day living exerted on Cloud. Zack hated himself for causing Cloud distress.

Cloud pressed and squeezed Zack gently. The touch brought Zack to the moment and the warm feeling of togetherness that always nurtured him. When he was with Cloud he felt like a plant sprinkled in fresh water and bathed in brilliant sunshine.

Cloud let go of Zack and pulled his arms into his lap. Zack leaned away. Was he making Cloud uncomfortable? Was it his scar? He hated that the guest chair was on the left. He really ought to move it, but the tray table was in the way on the right. Zack squeezed his hands into fists; his nails dug into his palms.

Cloud’s soft words sounded and pulled him out of his thoughts as he listened—

“Maybe this place feels a bit like a home to you? You’ve gotten to know everyone here pretty well. The nurses really like you. It makes sense to me that you’d feel sad about leaving it behind.”

Zack smiled brightly even though Cloud had completely missed the point. Whether on purpose or by virtue of it having been too subtle, Zack didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it. "Good to know I'm not loopy," he chuckled with fake amusement.

Cloud huffed out a laugh and shook his head ever so slightly. “You’re headstrong and stubborn. Maybe a bit overzealous too. But, no. Not loopy.”

Zack grinned. But his happiness dropped away. “I’m not sure if this place feels so much like a home. It’s more like… the vacation is really coming to a close now. Real life’s knocking at my door. I think about… what’s gonna happen once I leave. I feel like… everything is dark. All my options have been taken away. And… I don’t even know why I’m trying anymore. What’s left for me?” He looked at Cloud, wishing for some answers but knew there were none. 

Cloud stared. “You really feel that way?”

“Yeah. I think I do.” It was a big truth for him to admit. It’s the closest he could get to talking about his work without upsetting Cloud. “Everything I cared about is gone. Or feels like I’ll never get back. It’s hard to see my future. It’s never been like this before. I always knew where I was going and hauled my ass to get to it. But now my leg’s gone and I can’t see anything.”

A pained expression crossed Cloud’s face. “You can’t give up, Zack. You had a future once. You will get it back.”

Zack sighed. He knew it was the most unfair thing to ask, but he was desperate. “How?”

“By holding on to hope and your dreams and yourself.” Cloud fluttered his eyes. His hand trembled. “You’ll get it back by fighting. You're a fighter. You brought yourself back from the brink of death. You saved people. You fight every day to be better than the last—"

"I'm getting tired," seeped out of Zack. Cloud’s enthusiasm and hope and _faith_ in him felt staggering but he also felt the weight in his limbs, the burden in his chest, the exhaustion in his head. "I'm so tired of fighting a losing battle." He didn’t see how he could ever get his life back.

Cloud sat up straighter than before and gripped the armrest. "Don't give up. Stay strong. You can make it through this. You can get back to where you were and how you were—just… it will take a little adjustment, that’s all. Don't lose sight of your dreams.” A fire burned behind Cloud's eyes.

Zack huffed softly and managed a small smile as he looked at Cloud, so full of zealous passion and hope. It boggled his mind. It squeezed his heart. Zack pulled up a little straighter. He chuckled. “What have you done with my Cloud?”

Cloud blinked and his brows scrunched up. “Huh?”

“I didn’t expect you to cheer me on like this, that’s all.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Because you don’t like who I work for. It’s just a little strange to hear you tell me I should keep going and try to get back to where I was.”

Cloud looked at his lap and thought. Zack eagerly waited for whatever was on Cloud’s mind.

“I want you to be happy. I know your work makes you happy,” Cloud said slowly, his gaze wandered on and off Zack, and his face drew in tight with a thoughtful scowl. “You had dreams and hope and a life you loved and it got taken away. I just want you to be happy again. You deserve to be happy.”

Zack’s heart felt too big for his chest. He inhaled, desperate to try and create more space in there somehow to hold all the love he held for Cloud. “Is my happiness really that important to you?”

“Yes.”

Zack swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why?”

“Because…” Cloud rubbed his lips and his face twisted in hard concentration. 

“Because we’re friends. How you feel is important to me. Yo—” Cloud huffed and shook his head. “You told me once that the old you is dead. But he’s not. I’ve seen the way you fight every day to get better. I’ve… I’ve also seen how the light’s going out in you—” Cloud’s eyes looked glassy. His gaze darted around the room as his lips formed words without a sound. He took an audible inhale of breath and turned back to look at Zack. A steeliness resided in his stare. “There’s dreams and hopes in you. And… I want you to achieve them all, Zack. You’re alive. And strong. And amazing. And I don’t want to see you actually die in here. Don’t let your hope die. If that goes… then the rest of you will too.”

Zack stared at Cloud in silence, though his heart thundered and blood rushed in his ears. Cloud sounded so desperate. This felt personal. Zack felt almost afraid to ask, but… “What about you? What are your dreams?”

“Mine?”

Zack nodded with bated breath. Cloud had held dreams once too. They had all broken and shattered. Zack’s heart bled for him at that sudden realization. Cloud had told him he’d moved on from the past but the desperation in his voice and the tension in his stare had Zack full of doubts.

“I…” Cloud looked away. He drew in on himself.

Zack felt awash with pain as he realized what he’d hit on. Cloud had been just as lost as him once upon a time. Zack really hoped it was all in the past but… it really didn’t feel like it was. “Cloud,” he breathed out.

“I can’t answer that. I’m sorry.”

That response left Zack crestfallen and deflated. He muttered, “Oh.” Did Cloud have dreams and just didn’t want to share them? Or did he have none at all? Either possible answer hurt. Cloud seemed… a _little_ bitter and dysfunctional, but generally speaking also very put together. The lack of response from Cloud actually really hurt on a personal level for Zack. If Cloud had no dreams and hopes what would that mean for Zack? If Cloud couldn’t bring himself back from something like adrenal fatigue what chance did Zack have with a missing leg and a monster sitting in the back of his head that reared up and swallowed him whole at unexpected moments?

“Zack.” Desperation clung to Cloud’s words. He reached across the bed, held one of Zack’s hands in both of his, and stared at him with a pleading, weepy look in his eyes. “I believe in you. You're _so_ close. So close to being out of here and getting back to your life. I know you can do it. You’ve got this. Please don't give up."

How could Zack say no to that face? How could he refuse something that felt so important? He had to try. He had to do it. He had to get out of the hospital. Cloud depended on him. He wasn't just holding up his own life but held up Cloud's, Aerith's, his parents’, and everyone who knew him. He felt like such an inconvenience. Even to hospital staff. Maybe that should be his new interim dream: get out of there. Screw everything else. Just… get out. Let Cloud get back to his life. Put a smile back on that beautiful face.

“You're right. Thanks for that pep talk. I think…" He smiled. He blinked back the shards of tears which sat right behind his eyes. "I'm just running out of a little steam. Hitting that runner's wall or whatever. I think today was just too big for me. Standing was amazing. I really wanna do it again and soon. Kind of sucks that Brad took the leg away from me and that I have to wait one more week before I have my very own one. Yeah." He felt better as he talked, "I think that's just what this was. Sorry to worry you.” He laughed. His future still sucked, but he'd make it work somehow. He couldn’t let Cloud worry about him. He’d get out and get better for others. He’d deal with his future when it stared him in the face.

Cloud smiled at him and withdrew his hand-hold. "Okay, Zack. You've got this. I believe in you."

"Thanks, bud!" That was all he could really ask for. Though Cloud's belief in him was wonderful it also didn’t _really_ matter. It didn’t _really_ have an effect on the fact that it was his _bosses_ who needed to believe in him. He shook the thought out. “You feel like watching something? Or playing some cards or chess?”

“Maybe just watch something.” Cloud smiled and they eased into their regular routine.

### 

The bothersome thoughts about his future were a sore spot for Zack. One he had no control over, and it grew heavier with the passing days. He spoke up about it once. Maybe Scarlet hadn’t been the most appropriate person to speak about it with though.

“You’re not happy with all the plans I’m making for you?” she said with raised eyebrows and pursed lips as she stood in Zack’s room with a clipboard. She always wore a brilliant display of colors to match her namesake and today wasn’t any different. Zack couldn’t help but to think of her as beautiful—in the same way poisonous plants and venomous animals were fascinating and glorious to look at. 

Zack wished he could avoid her, but work force fed her to him. He didn’t think he’d ever build up a tolerance. He prepared for her toxic bite as he said, “I don’t think my skills are best used for this.”

“Honey, you’ve got a pretty face. Work out some more and you’ll get your hot body back as well—I've seen the photos."

Zack's mind raced as he wondered what photos she'd seen.

"Potential clients love a good-looking man on their front covers. And we can milk the leg angle. You’ll become popular with the housewives. Do you have a sweetheart?” She poised her pen, ready to take notes.

He shook his head a tiny bit. His heart _longed_ for a moment.

“Great.” She scribbled. “We can sell you as a bachelor as well.”

“Scarlet,” he tried to sound authoritative. “I don’t want to do this. One or two interviews once in a while is fine. But this back to back on the trail business? No.”

“What makes you think you get a say in anything?”

“It’s my life. My career.” Zack felt the shake in his body. Anger built.

“Your career belongs to me now. You are shaped by _me_ now. While you are handsome and pretty to look at you are mine. The women will want you, and the men won’t feel threatened because of your leg. You’re the perfect mascot to work with.” A sharp smirk played on her ruby lips.

“I’m not a fucking mascot.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “You will do what your bosses tell you to do. And they have given me free reign here, so you are mine. If you don’t want to do this then what will happen to you? I’ll tell you what,” she said without pause, “You’ll be let go. You serve no purpose or use to the military other than showing your face for propaganda and recruitment. You’d better use your looks to your advantage because soon you’ll lose it all. If you hope to get the ongoing medical benefits you're receiving you’d better find a way to stay youthful to me or I _will_ drop you. And when I drop you what do you think will happen to that leg of yours? Hm? It’s military property. Don’t think you can walk away from me. You’ll end up in a wheelchair for life if you do.”

Needless to say, Zack did _not_ feel good after that conversation. While he knew that she was full of shit he also couldn't 100% be sure she _wasn't._ It boiled his blood. It angered him that she was definitely right about one thing: he had no use other than being on the propaganda campaign trail with Scarlet, or doing some kind of office job. And he thought more and more about whether or not the humiliation of either one of those options would be worth it.

A part of him shut down and didn’t want to think about it. He’d deal with it once he was out. Even if work somehow took the leg he currently had he still figured he’d at least get a replacement one and all the rehabilitation that was his due. He _had_ been injured in the line of duty, after all. The military owed him. He could always throw in the towel later. Nothing had to be decided just yet. 

So he did his best to get his permanent leg because still being on only one sucked and added insult to his already injured ego. He focused on his rehab to pass all the little tests Brad put him through: walking and standing on a wobble board, narrow beams, slopes, different surfaces, and the continual effort and struggle to master stairs. 

Zack found it weird and cool that he _could_ feel different surfaces. He wasn’t too impressed with the stairs. His damn knee locked out from time to time and he had to shuffle and pivot on one foot when he wanted to turn around.

It was better than being stuck in bed though. And after his week of walking practice was complete and he got his ‘forever leg’—a cool piece of machinery with hydraulic fluid, sensors, a battery, and long-staying durability, Zack felt a little relieved. Also a little proud. A little like he _could_ do this. Could get well. Could fight for his spot in the military. Prevent getting shafted and put out to pasture.

He grew determined to prove Scarlet wrong. He wanted to fight for his worth and to show it to everyone else too.

Some semblance of joy returned to him. But as the end of October drew closer and his almost year-long stay in the hospital grew to a close, it brought him down again. Just a little. He could stand and hold conversations now without needing crutches. He lumbered around a little and worked day in, day out to eliminate the blasted limp from his gait. He received a monumental confidence boost being able to roll down his damn pants legs and walk around, just like everyone else. He nearly cried when he went up to the garden with Cloud to watch the last of the leaves drop from the trees and some of the plants get ready for their winter dormancy. 

“Zack,” Cloud said softly and sounded close.

“I’m okay. Just… thinking about how much time passed.”

Cloud hummed, came up next to Zack, and stood with him.

Zack felt the brush of Cloud’s arm against his own. He flexed his fingers and touched Cloud's with a feathery caress. For his trouble, he received the asked-for handhold. Their fingers interlaced. Their palms touched. Cloud squeezed and Zack reciprocated as he looked up into the pale blue sky and braced against the chill of the wind.

“Let’s go inside and watch some TV. Francis will be around soon with dinner," Cloud said.

Zack hummed and let Cloud walk him back down to the residential wing. He couldn’t say anything meaningful to Cloud as they went. He’d tried. The words stuck in his throat every time. He didn’t know why. Even with his leg on he still couldn’t say anything. Maybe he’d put too much stock in that somehow fixing things for him?

He’d probably also put too much hope in his leg getting Scarlet off his back. She seemed to be around more than ever, smacking him with her clipboard when he faltered in his step.

“This is abuse,” he growled.

“So? Look lively, we have a photo op at midday.”

Zack had found a new hell on earth.

“She keeps smacking me and her laugh is the most hoity-toity grating thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Zack offloaded to Kunsel who came to visit a week out from his discharge date. “And she has this wardrobe for me. I feel like a doll. And god forbid my medals are askew even by a hair or the stripes on my class A's are even a millimetre off spec—ow,” he flinched.

“Sorry. Your hair’s a mess. Have you ever brushed this?” Kunsel ran a comb through the thick strands and brushed out the far-too-grown-out undercut.

“I think I had a brush once. Don’t know what happened to it.” He grinned at Kunsel through the bathroom mirror, while the other man stood behind and ran his fingers—as well as a fine-toothed comb—through Zack's hair.

“You’re lucky Cissnei isn’t here. She’d murder you. She gifted you a brush for your birthday.”

“Oh. Maybe mom took it with her.”

Kunsel hummed and kept brushing Zack’s hair. He reached for the spray bottle he'd brought along, sprayed Zack's hair, then returned the bottle to the bathroom vanity, where shears and scissors lay. “Why did you let it get this long to begin with? I thought you hated long hair.”

Zack shrugged. “Just wanted to see how far I could get it before I got sick of it or before I got told to cut it by the big wigs.”

“And which was it? You decided or they did?”

“It was a mutual decision.”

Kunsel gave a lopsided smile and looked at Zack through the mirror. “You got bullied into it by that PR lady, didn’t you.”

Zack squinted at Kunsel. “How do you think General Sephiroth gets away with having his hair so long?”

“I think the answer is in his title.”

Zack _humpf’ed_ and crossed his arms under the cape he wore. “As if being a Sergeant doesn’t get me anything.”

“Gets you plenty. A hefty pay rise. Your own command. Don’t you get a say in who you want on your squad? You can get your guys put under you.”

Zack had thought of that. “Yeah. It’s a perk. But I don’t think I’ll get to exercise that privilege.”

“Why not? 

“When was the last time you’ve seen someone with a missing leg get _anything_? They all get medically retired. Forgotten. Gone. They’re just _gone.”_ And he was as good as gone once he stopped being a show pony for Scarlet—once people got bored with him.

Kunsel met Zack’s hard stare and pursed lips with an even-but-thoughtful expression as they exchanged looks through the mirror. “Just because you haven't heard of them doesn't mean they don’t exist.”

“Name me one then.”

“Master Chief Carl Brashear. He even had a movie made about his life and experiences—Men of Honor. I’ll get you a copy. I’m sure there are other people as well. And you’re one of them now too.”

“People deserving enough of a movie are the exception, not the standard. I am _not_ an exception,” Zack bit back. He did nothing to deserve a movie. He was a farce. A sham. A scapegoat and a way for his country and his bosses to make themselves look good. 

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I’m not. People—my friends— _died_ because _I_ couldn’t keep them _safe_.” Zack glared at his friend in the mirror. Immovable tears stung in his eyes and tickled his nose.

Kunsel’s gaze shifted on and off Zack. “I know I can’t know what that must have been like but you—”

“No buts!” Zack snapped and glared at Kunsel. “You don’t get to talk to me about this.” He ground his teeth. While Kunsel had been in his life long enough he could also never truly understand what this feeling was like to have. No one could understand. 

Kunsel signed and began to work on Zack’s hair again by wetting, brushing, and parting it. Zack’s anger boiled but then simmered down. Kunsel’s touch on his scalp felt too nice. He couldn’t stay mad at him for too long.

“This doesn't have to be the end of the road for you if you don't let it be,” Kunsel murmured after some time.

“I'm trying really fucking hard to not let it be but I feel like everyone and everything is pushing against me.”

“You've never taken 'no' for an answer in the past."

Zack huffed and threw his stare down at his leg which was covered by the cloak. “This is different.” 

“How? People like you. Your bosses like you. I’m sure you could talk yourself into anything.”

Zack grumbled and thought about how people only liked him now because of the ways they could use him to gain favor in the public eye. That’s what Scarlet’s role for him was all about, in the end. “This whole situation’s been too much of a pain in the butt for me to be liked by anyone right now.”

“Well, I still like you. But your bosses,” he hummed, “maybe. You can always make them like you again.”

Zack frowned. “Not like this,” he said in a hushed tone and glowered at the spot where his leg should be.

“What’s it been like for you?”

Zack shrugged. “Yanno.” He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it. 

“I don’t,” Kunsel said softly and tousled Zack's hair with familiar affection.

Zack scrunched up his face.

Kunsel let out a deep but quiet and slow exhale. With energy, he said, “How do you want it? Short back and sides? All off like in your cadet years?”

“No thanks.” Zack shook his head and looked back up at the mirror and his best friend. “Undercut and faded back will do.”

“How boring. You looked so cute with all your hair gone.”

“And you looked adorable with your bowl cut. Whatever happened to that?” he teased and pulled up a smile.

They chuckled. The discomfort Zack felt slid away and Kunsel picked up the scissors and began to snip at his hair. The sound of the scissors and the faint _plop_ of his hair, as it fell onto the cape, had a soothing rhythm to it. Kunsel's fingers sent shivers down his spine. He always enjoyed getting haircuts and he let his eyes drift shut. The way fingers ran through his hair and scraped at his skull always served as such a nice massage. Kunsel was especially good at it. He paid Zack extra attention and kneaded and rubbed him harder and for longer than was absolutely necessary because Kunsel knew how much he liked it. Zack also loved the shiver-inducing tingles that the shears inflicted on him and looked forward to the undercut particular for that reason.

He hadn't really felt very good in his body so this visit of Kunsel's was an extra special treat for him.

“What’s happening when you leave here? Where are you getting stationed?”

Zack hummed and leaned into the small touches Kunsel left on him as he tilted Zack's head this way and that way to get an even cut. “They’re putting me up at Junon Barracks for a week, or something.”

“Oh, cool. That’s right outside of the city here.”

“Yup.”

“And after that?”

Zack shrugged. “Fort Condor. I’m supposed to do admin—”

Kunsel faltered in his movements.

Zack opened his eyes to be greeted by Kunsel’s stricken expression.

“I’m so sorry,” Kunsel said with deep sympathy in his words and a furrow of his brow.

“Yeah, well, it gets _worse_. You know all those awful interviews I’ve been doing?”

“Yeah. I keep all the cuttings and record all the videos. It’s how Cissnei saw the state of your hair and ordered me to come and fix you.”

Zack snorted deep in his throat at that remark. “Well, Scarlet’s planning on kidnapping me and making me her hostage. She’s planned this tour clear across the country for me.”

Kunsel let out a displeased sound. “That’s no good at all. Won’t Cloud miss you?”

“Cloud?” Zack looked at Kunsel through the mirror, confused.

“He won’t get to see you if you’re traveling around so much.”

“Yeah, well…” Zack shrugged, “doesn’t matter, does it?” He tried to hold the bitterness at bay.

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Why would it?”

Kunsel stopped cutting Zack’s hair. “Aren’t you two, y’know,” he whistled suggestively.

Zack’s heart jumped in his chest. _“What?_ No. What gives you that idea?”

“You’re gaga for him.”

“I’m not.” His cheeks heated up and he saw it in his reflection.

“You are. Even my kids know. Betty’s always asking when uncle Zack and his boyfriend, Cloud, are coming to visit.”

“Hey now, if Betty-boo is saying anything it’s ‘cause her parents have been feeding her crap.”

“Why’re you so defensive about it? Don’t you like him? He totally likes you.”

“He does?” Zack whipped his head around.

“Hey, careful," Kunsel threw his arms up into the air, "I could've poked your eye out.”

“Add it to the list of things wrong with me—you think he likes me?” 

“Yeah? Why? You think he doesn’t?”

“I… don't know.” Zack turned back to the front and slumped against the backrest of the plastic chair they’d brought in. Yes, Kunsel made it his business to know people so that assessment from him regarding Cloud… it… Zack tried to curb his astonished enthusiasm. There were a lot of facts Kunsel didn't have. “I’ve tried everything to tell him I like him and he’s… I don’t think he likes me.”

“You _think_ or you _know._ There’s a pretty big difference.”

“I think,” he muttered.

“Just tell him that you want to sleep with him. You want to sleep with him, don’t you? He’s attractive. You always had a thing for blonds.”

“He’s not… for… sleeping with.” Zack swallowed the thick saliva in his mouth. His stomach knotted.

Kunsel stopped cutting Zack’s hair again and stared at him through the mirror. His mouth hung open.

“What?” Zack sulked.

Kunsel burst out laughing.

“What?” Zack scowled.

“Who are you? What have you done with playboy Zack Fair?”

Kunsel's words stabbed him. “Nothing," he bit with an edge in his words.

“So what’s wrong then? You like Cloud—scratch that. Damn, Cloud somehow did what I never could do? I’m envious.” He smiled and started cutting again.

“What did he do?”

Kunsel smiled softly between clicks of the scissors. “Make you love him.”

Zack flushed deeply at that observation. Having kept it in his head—having voiced it only to himself—had always felt different. It being stated so matter of factly by someone else was very embarrassing. He tried to save face. “I only love you, man.”

“Correction, you love everyone. So why would you say you don’t love Cloud? I’ll tell you why—" Kunsel leaned down and murmured against Zack's ear, "it’s because it’s _serious.”_ He grinned and stood up straight.

Zack crumpled and threw his hands up to cover his face. He couldn't deny it. Not to Kunsel. “It is. Oh _God,_ it is. He’s so perfect, Kun.” He’d been sitting on that for months. “And gorgeous, and funny." Zack rubbed his face. "And like… really smart. Probably too smart for me. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me. We played chess and—”

“He got you to play chess?”

Zack peeked out from behind his hands and dropped them away. “I’m so bad at it. He lets me beat him.”

Kunsel laughed. “Damn. So how come you’ve deluded yourself into thinking he doesn’t like you?” Kunsel got out the shears and started using them.

Zack tilted his head to give Kunsel access. He stared blankly ahead of himself as he tried to remember all the things that had ever happened to make him as confused as he was. “I’ve asked him on dates. I’ve asked him for kisses. I tell him he’s important to me, and I get nothing back. Just his beautiful blank stare. Have you seen his eyes? They're so blue and big and oh my god.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. The mental image of Cloud kicked up the hornet’s hive in his stomach. He itched to touch him. It felt like there was a hole in his chest that could only be filled by Cloud.

“So he’s said ‘no’ then when you asked him all those things?”

Zack groaned. “That’s the thing… he hasn’t. We’ve had dinner together for his birthday. We hold hands. He gives the best hugs. But… like… nothing more than that. He hasn’t said he doesn’t like me. But he also hasn’t said he _does_ like me.” Saying it out loud made him feel stupid. Had he heard it from anyone else he'd have been in Kunsel's position and told himself to get a grip and stop being an idiot. But this was different. Cloud played it so hot and cold—mostly cold… maybe luke-warm. Had Zack been in better shape… 

“Why don’t you just grab him and kiss him? See what he does.”

“I don’t want to scare him off. I want him around.”

“Wow.” Kunsel blinked rapidly. “You’ve really changed. The old Zack would have just grabbed him and—”

“The old Zack’s _dead.”_ He felt it in every fiber of his body. In the bits that still existed and in the throbs and aches from the bits of him that no longer were there.

Kunsel blew out air. “You drama queen.”

Zack pouted.

“So, you really mean to tell me you’ve been in here all this time, pining after Cloud, and you’ve never _done_ anything about it? Getting _no_ action?”

“Mm.”

“Do you need a hand? Or a mouth?”

“Wh-what?”

“I know how frustrated you get… or you’re telling me that’s changed too?”

“Ah… Kun, that’s a bit… weird.”

“Is it? It wasn’t in the past.”

“Yeah, but… you said we couldn’t do that anymore because I hurt you, remember?”

Kunsel smiled. “Yeah, believe me, I remember. That was years ago though. I’ve moved on from… _caring?_ From being invested in what I can’t have. You’re still my best friend though, and I love you, and I’m worried about you. You always told me sex is good for you—helps you with your nerves. Remember?” Kunsel chuckled, tilted Zack's head the other way, and ran the shears down.

The shears sent sensational tingles down Zack’s body. His heart pounded over the present feelings but also the past memories. He _did_ remember. He remembered all the long, lonely nights he and Kunsel had spent together in bunkers and shared rooms. He remembered the handjobs and blowjobs. He also remembered how much he’d hurt Kunsel. The distance Kunsel had put between them when he realized that Zack was an asshole who wasn’t boyfriend material. Zack had given Kunsel his space. Had respected the boundaries even when that had meant virtually no contact for a couple of years until he'd been invited to the wedding. “What would Cissnei think though?”

“She knows our history. I talked about it with her before we ever invited you to our wedding.”

“She knew about us when we met?”

“Yeah. And she still learned to love you. She actually told me to go ahead and look after you if you need it. She’s worried about you stuck in the hospital for so long. But we both thought you had Cloud,” Kunsel ended in a mutter.

A throb started in Zack’s groin driven by memories and an undeniable pent-up need. “I couldn’t ask you to.”

“You don’t have to. I’m offering. If I can help you with a quick tug and rub that’s cool. If you’re worried about making a mess you know I don’t mind swallowing. You’re still hot. I’m not blind. I always liked what we did. We only stopped because I needed… more from you.”

Zack swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks, man, but…” Something about this didn’t feel right.

Kunsel smiled. “You really don’t want to, huh. He’s really got you good.” Kunsel shrugged and tapped Zack's head to indicate he was done with that side. “That’s cool. Thought I’d just check. I don’t mind if you change your mind. Just let me know.”

“C’mon, stop being weird and get back to cutting my hair.”

“Just trying to cheer you up, buddy.”

“It’s not working.”

Kunsel got back to work perfecting the fade at the back of Zack's head. He cut a little bit more here and there, tousled Zack's hair, and styled him like he'd done so many times before, back when they had been stationed together. 

Zack found it familiar and comforting. He felt blessed that Kunsel still considered him his best friend. He thought about the past. About all the good times—

“So what’s happening with you and Cloud then?”

“I told you, he doesn’t like me—not like that.”

“Mm… pretty sure he does. I know you asked him a lot of things but have you told him you love him? Just like that?”

“N… no.”

Kunsel scoffed and shook his head with disapproval. “Zack, Zack, Zack. Classic-blunder, Zack Fair.” He tilted Zack’s head this way and that as he did touch-ups.

“Look, I’ve tried flirting with him, yanno. I’m not subtle or anything. If I like you, it’s pretty obvious, as you always tell me.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t hide it if you tried.”

“Yeah. And I’m not trying to hide it from him. But everything I do makes him uncomfortable. My job makes him uncomfortable. My future’s up in the air and I can guarantee that I won’t be able to see him again anytime soon. And on top of that, my track record for keeping relationships isn’t crash hot.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you never had an interest in keeping relationships before now.”

“Yeah, sure, but I don't see what difference it makes,” Zack muttered.

“Big difference. Cloud’s different. How you think and feel is different. If he were to tell you tomorrow that he loved you, I know you'd drop everything to make it work out somehow. You'd figure something out. You guys can make it work. And I know that because I’ve never known you to not get what you want—when you set your mind to it.”

Zack pondered Kunsel's words. He wasn't wrong. When he wanted something he got it. But he wanted Cloud and hadn't achieved that yet. He wanted his life to go in a different direction, but that wasn't working out either. Not yet… if he had something to fight for—had Cloud depend on him, wait for him, want him… some strength and ghosting determination throbbed in his veins. If he had a reason to try then… anything could be possible. “Yeah. Right. Sure.”

Kunsel gives Zack a funny look. “Don’t sound excited or anything, will ya.”

“Ahahah, no, I am. I'm just… thinking.”

Kunsel smiled. “Being here’s really slowed you down.”

“Huh?”

“You’re living in your head more.” Kunsel tapped his temple.

“Yeah. It’s a bit… shit.”

Kunsel shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’ll do you some good. Now quit moving so I can get this last bit of the fade working right for you.”

Zack tilted his head and indulged in the tingles which the shears sent through his body.

Kunsel didn't take much longer and when he was finished he tapped Zack. They stared at each other through the mirror. 

"There you are. There's the handsome Zack Fair from before he got himself all shot up while he played at doing big, dumb, heroic things." Kunsel smiled warmly.

Zack inhaled sharply. He felt like he was looking at a ghost. The scar sat etches on his jaw. His body had fundamentally changed. His mental state had been broken and reset. "I don't recognize myself anymore," he got out barely above a whisper.

"You're still you, Zack. Handsome. Charming. A real hoot."

"How can you say that? I'm… gross."

"I can say that because I have eyes, man. You're still everything that ever attracted me to you. You're maybe even hotter now."

Zack looked up at Kunsel, disbelieving. "You're just staying that ‘cause you’re my best friend."

"I'm saying what I think is true. Scars are sexy. You're a reckless, stupid hero with a heart of gold. That's hot. You're even starting to grow a brain now. That's even hotter." Kunsel's smile was soft and warm. "If I had met you like this I might have been in with a chance. Cloud's a lucky guy."

"Cissnei is a lucky woman."

"That she is, my friend, and I'm so lucky and blessed to have her with me. She is the best. And because she is the best she is okay with me doing things for you, if you need them. But I hope that the next time I see you, you'll tell me that you got together with Cloud and are getting all the love and affection you deserve and need. Just don't be a big idiot. Tell him that you love him. I would have killed to have you think and talk about me like you do about Cloud."

"I'm really sorry, Kun."

"All water under the bridge. I really _am_ over you, you know? I guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic right now. I'm happy to see the change in you. Keep it up."

"Thanks." Zack really felt lucky to have a friend like Kunsel around. He was so glad that he hadn’t ruined things between them. Kunsel’s opinion really mattered to him. If Kunsel could see beyond his physical limitations maybe Cloud would too? Zack could only hope.

The end of October arrived, bringing with it the Big Day: Discharge Day. A hive of activity surrounded Zack. Sergeants and Generals he hadn’t seen or heard from in a long time came around. Scarlet was around practically every day, drilling him on his speech that he’d have to recite off by heart. He had to practice his walk because he wouldn’t be allowed crutches on the day—which Zack was fine with. He at least agreed with that. 

Getting his walk right felt of paramount importance. Making sure he could get up and down stairs without a hitch, without his micro-compressor locking out, was vital. As much as he hated it—because he had to resort to taking one step at a time—Zack climbed any stairs he could find as he wandered the halls and grounds of the hospital. He needed all the practice he could get to rid himself of the embarrassing way he involuntarily flailed his arms about when he tried to climb even one step. He also needed to figure out the secret of how to ensure his knee didn't freeze on him. He really felt the pressure as his entourage of military personnel stayed close at hand, always directing and appraising him. 

It was all such a pain. The fact that Cloud had been completely spooked off was a massive thorn in Zack’s side. Where he’d seen Cloud almost daily he now only popped around once or twice a week, late in the evenings, and only stayed for a brief stint because Zack was so tired and nodded off a good portion of the time.

Zack was so over it. Over everything. He wanted out of this jail. He wanted to get to work doing what he did before, which he knew wouldn’t be the case. He still wished for it, though. He tried to use what influence he had in any way he could. This manifested in long discussions (list of demands, really) with his OT around the wording of his mobility and support reports. Brad was a good guy and Zack recognized that he was letting out his frustrations about his lack of control on him. But if making sure he was painted in the best light possible in reports was the only thing Zack had control over, he needed to take it. 

He otherwise tried to stay positive and thought maybe things would be okay once he got out. He’d be able to do stuff then. He might even enjoy—Nah. He knew paperwork was not his scene. Maybe the promotional stuff might grow on him? He hoped it would. He did like talking to people. Enjoyed travel. Maybe something would come of it. But he detested Scarlet’s vehement, zealous, gung-ho attitude. He could admire it—would love to admire it, from afar. Really far afar. 

She was having far too much fun micromanaging him on the day of his discharge. It went as far as scheduling his toilet breaks and she fussed over how exactly he should wear his beret and at what angle his pins sat and tilted at.

He received some reprieve from getting hammered with the quiz-style questions around midday when his parents arrived. The heat moved off him as Scarlet focused her energies to train _them_ in the appropriate responses to deliver when and if asked certain questions.

Zack was _finally_ left in peace but he couldn't idle. There was much to do: his as-good-as-a-second-home hospital room needed to be packed up. So he did just that and stuffed everything he owned and had received over the too-many months of his hospitalization, into the big suitcase his parents had brought over. 

The process of collecting and packing things away left him with a menagerie of feelings which all vied for attention. He tried not to give it.

A soft knock at the door made Zack’s body buzz. He turned around with a small hop. The smile already sat on his face. “Buddy, hey!” Cloud had told him he’d swing by on his last day but there had been a good deal of doubt in Zack’s mind too. “You’re here earlier than usual," he sang out as Cloud entered.

“Yeah." Cloud closed the door but didn't get very many steps into the room before he stopped and stared. His lashes fluttered. He cleared his throat. "I, ah… I decided to come in before work.”

“Aww.” Zack got his legs in gear and strode over to Cloud with confidence. His body rocked and swayed with the foreign gait, but at least he no longer hobbled. He loved walking. Loved it. Absolutely adored it. Unaided. Sure, he still had a limp—needed to swing his hip—but the leg worked well and gave him a spring. He’d been on his feet all morning and felt tired but he also wanted to show off to Cloud any chance he got, especially since Cloud hadn’t been around much lately.

He stopped in front of Cloud, who stared up at him with wide eyes and his mouth drifted open. Zack found it comical and chuckled. He pulled Cloud into a tight hug and felt the way Cloud stiffened in his embrace. It stole his smile. Zack pulled back a fraction and looked down at him. "Everything alright?"

Cloud nodded and stepped away. He cast his heavenly blue eyes up and down.

Had he been in the prime shape of his life Zack might have flexed and cocked a smirk. As it stood though—as _he_ stood—he turned to the left with a small hop, self-conscious about his scarred face. A painful awareness crept in that he was in his class A uniform. While it wasn’t quite as formal as a dress uniform it was a considerable step up from the regular issue battle fatigues he’d worn on a daily basis. That was probably the problem. 

Cloud finally found his voice after he cleared his throat and looked away, "Yeah. I haven't… Your hair… did you go out for that?”

He ran his hand through his cropped hair, still getting used to it being so short. “No. Kunsel came over and helped me. He used to cut my hair when we worked together. It’s his second talent. He could open a barber shop if the journalism career falls over.”

“Ah.”

“Neat, right?”

“Mm.” Cloud nodded. His eyes kept darting down the length of Zack’s body. “Yo-you look really respectable.”

“Thanks.” Zack breathed down the desire to grab Cloud and kiss his neck. "It's a very big day today, so I need to look good." He turned to head back to his bed so he could finish packing. He stopped and threw over his shoulder, "I do, right?"

Cloud snapped his eyes up. "Y-yeah. What're you packing?" He hastily strode past Zack and over to the suitcase on the bed.

Zack followed with a wish—but a serious doubt—in his heart that Cloud had just checked him out. His ass had always looked great… back when he had been well put together. Back when he hadn’t needed to worry about lopsidedness which stemmed from an inability to work out both sides of his body at equal capacity. Nowadays, he felt saggy, soft, shabby, and uneven. This uniform he wore wasn't even his normal size—it was a lot smaller but at least fit him well enough.

Cloud looked at all the stuff scattered around the bed and then glanced up at Zack as he joined him. “You’re walking really well,” Cloud remarked with a smile.

“Thanks. It’s been one of my priorities.”

They exchanged warm looks and then turned their attention to the suitcase.

Clothes, selected ‘get well’ cards, and various mementos—like the now-dried flower crowns—were already packed. There were other things that still needed to be stowed away. 

Zack kept packing. He folded away more clothes and slipped personal items into nooks here and there. 

"Amazing how much stuff you've accumulated," Cloud remarked.

"Yeah. I don't even remember where half this stuff is from." He quickly shoved the unopened letters and cards which he couldn’t bring himself to look through into the suitcase and dumped his canine soft toy collection on top.

Cloud didn’t say a word about it. Zack really appreciated the silence. He adored Cloud, but the feeling didn't manifest into anything meaningful: like words. He closed the suitcase and sat on the bed and looked down at his legs dressed and covered under his dark green uniform. He had his dress leg on—the one that filled out and was molded to match his remaining leg. Even with the sock on, it was still obvious where his masterfully crafted piece of machinery connected to his stump. He rubbed the fake knee and his thigh.

“It looks really good, Zack… Your leg,” Cloud clarified when Zack looked at him.

“You really think so?”

Cloud hummed and sat down next to him. “Yeah. When you’re standing up it’s… amazing. Can’t even tell it’s there.” His encouraging smile flourished. “And even when you sit down… if I hadn’t been here for everything that happened to you, I’d never be able to guess.”

Would it be too much to hope for Cloud to get amnesia? Forget about the leg? Maybe then they could have a chance. Zack’s mood soured. He smiled. "Thanks for seeing me off today," he started, unsure how to confess his love but definitely experienced anxiety and stress over the acute sense that time had now, _almost_ , run out.

"I wouldn’t miss the big day for the world." Cloud looked like a statue of stoic perfection.

Zack rubbed his hands on his pants and resisted the urge of chewing his nails. “I guess I’ve been a bit worried about you not showing up.”

“Ah… yeah. I’m sorry that I’ve been… missing.”

Zack put his hand on Cloud’s shoulder. He missed the feel of him and squeezed Cloud gently. “If I was in your position I’d have gone missing too.” He laughed. “It’s been rough, man.” He dropped his hand from Cloud’s shoulder.

Cloud placed his hand on top of Zack’s as it rested on the mattress. “What’s been going on?”

Zack sighed and figured he might as well tell Cloud. “It’s all the media attention, yanno? They were kept away from me and now I feel like I’m being fed to the wolves.”

“It will get better once you go back to work, right?”

A heavy breath seeped out of Zack. “I’m probably gonna have to do this for a while. Like a _really_ long while. You know I can’t get deployed with this thing.” He kicked out his leg which sprang to attention. Zack reached for it and manually folded it back down with chagrin.

Cloud’s face drew together with a frown. “I know getting deployed means a lot to you. I’m really sorry you’re stuck.”

Zack waved it off. “Nothing to be done about it. What did it look like out there when you came in?”

“Um… busy. There are lots of vans and tents out there. How are you feeling about the press-conference?”

“Wanna guess?” Zack gave a sheepish grin.

With a hum and a smile greater and more precious than all the flower bouquets Zack had ever gotten in his life, Cloud said, "You'll do great.” 

"Thanks." Zack breathed. Cloud’s confidence made him feel better about the whole thing of standing up before a large group of strangers, basically putting himself on display. “As long as you're there, I'll survive. And, hey," he added as courage bubbled up, "I’d like to take you out for dinner after the whole show is over. We’re still cool for that?”

"Uh…” Cloud tucked his arms in and held himself around his elbows, “I wasn’t planning on sticking around for the… I mean, if that’s okay. I don’t really want to… there’s a lot of military personnel. I think Sephiroth is about? And I still have work that needs to be done today—I’m sorry. But I still wanted to see you off.”

The news knocked into Zack. Cloud _wouldn’t_ be there for him? Why’d he even come to begin with? The irritation fell. They hadn’t really discussed anything. Zack knew how uncomfortable Cloud felt. He’d still hoped though that maybe… "No, that’s completely fine. I get you’re busy. Um… is that no to dinner though? I’d still like to take you somewhere. If not today then another day maybe?”

The corners of Cloud's mouth lifted. “Are you going to be in the city for a while?”

“At least a week.”

Cloud let out a slight huff. “Oh good. I found a place that’s said to have the best steak, but I could only get a booking for eighteen hundred next Tuesday. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here—”

“No, I definitely am. I’m so there for that!”

“Good.” With rosy cheeks Cloud dug into his pocket. The motion made him tilt against Zack. “Sorry.”

“You’re alright.” He smiled and pushed back against Cloud. 

Moments later, Cloud produced a piece of paper and handed it to Zack.

"The Royal Rump," Zack snickered as he read the reservation out loud.

Cloud huffed with held-in amusement, "Be mature about this."

"Oh, I am." He winked with renewed giddy excitement.

"It's said to have the best steaks in existence. The address is on the paper.”

"Got it. Thanks, Cloud. I'm looking forward to this more than my discharge today." 

Cloud turned a deeper shade of red. It tickled Zack pink and the smile he gave came so natural to him whenever Cloud was around. His experience with Cloud sat in stark contrast to all the good cheer he had to force himself to show to everyone else.

There came a knock on the door. _"Honey,"_ his mother’s voice called out. She poked her head in and opened the door, "Are you all packed?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Good." She stepped into the room. "Oh, hello, Cloud. How are you?"

Cloud got up off the bed. "Good, thanks. You?"

"Really pleased," she smiled. "Leave that here, honey," she said to Zack. "We’ll collect it once the press conference is over, which is what we really need to go to. The pushy lady wants us to hurry up."

"Yeah, okay. Coming." Zack pushed off the bed with a grunt. He stood tall and stiff. It felt so good to be up on his own two feet again and able to move—well, as much as he could claim to maneuver under his own power now that he wasn't all himself anymore.

“Cloud, dear, will you be joining us?” Zack’s mom asked with a pointed look.

“No, ma’am. I need to get to work.”

“Oh. That's such shame.”

Zack couldn’t agree more with that sentiment.

The three of them stood around. Zack’s mom looked expectantly at Zack. Cloud seemed to have found something riveting to stare at on the tray table, and Zack… he couldn’t let go. “Can you give me a moment with Cloud?”

“Of course.” She quickly retreated, but not before saying, “Don’t forget to hurry,” as she shut the door.

Zack breathed out a small laugh and shook his head.

"You’ll be okay with your leg, right?" Cloud threw him a wary look.

"Yep. I've been training for this moment." Zack took a couple of steps. He had to concentrate very hard. Had to shift his body, haul his leg, keep his center of balance, or he’d wobble horribly. He'd had a month to get semi-competent on his prosthesis. "I don't think I'll make a fool out of myself, so all's good."

"Use the crutches like your OT tells you to." Cloud handed—practically _shoved_ them—against Zack with a glint in his eyes and a twitch to his lips.

Zack laughed and rested the implements against the bed frame. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll use them as much as Scarlet lets me. She put me under strict orders to not use them if I can help it.”

“I’d rather you stick it to her and use them than strain yourself or hurt yourself,” Cloud said with a stern expression.

Zack smiled. “Thanks, Nanny Cloud."

Cloud rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

"Hey!" Zack couldn’t believe that _this was it_. Or _almost it_. He had a paper in his pocket with their next—last—chance on it. He couldn’t blow it. He couldn’t let Cloud walk out of his life. He lurched forward, stepped, fell with his arms out, and crashed into the back of Cloud—they both stumbled. He hugged Cloud fiercely. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for all the support over all these months. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” He knew Cloud would be sporting an adorable shade of crimson. He hugged Cloud tighter, buried his nose into tufts of hair, and listened to the small flustered sounds seep out of Cloud before he fell silent again.

Cloud, carefully, turned around in Zack’s arms. He wound his arms around Zack's waist and squeezed back with power. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy that you can finally get out of here.”

Zack held Cloud around his shoulders, hugged him tight, and reburied his nose in soft and fresh smelling locks. He spoke against Cloud’s ear, as the sting of tears pricked his eyes, “You've been such a Godsend. An utter angel. My absolute hero.” He loved Cloud so much. He wanted to tell him. He would… 

An abrasive knock sounded at the door. _“Sergeant Fair,”_ came Scarlet's harsh call from the hallway.

Cloud stiffened in Zack’s arms. Zack sighed and let go of Cloud. He smiled down at him and Cloud smiled back. The predictable heat clung to Cloud's cheeks, which made Zack giddy, though the hole that rapidly expanded and numbed him tempered his feelings. There was still so much left to say and admit to. So much to do to make sure he didn’t lose Cloud. But Cloud was uncomfortable. Zack was uncomfortable with what lay ahead. He didn’t want to do this right now with Cloud—didn’t want to keep the man any longer from his other duties. "I'll see you next week."

Cloud nodded. "I'll watch the news to see if you fall over."

Zack laughed and clapped Cloud on the back. “You cheeky asshole,” he said with affection. “I’m really going to miss you somethin’ fierce, buddy.” 

Something tight sat on Cloud’s face. He took his time to answer, ever so softly, “We’ll see each other real soon.”

“Yeah.”

Another aggravated knock sounded and they had to part. Zack dove in for a final hug before Scarlet threw the door open and yelled at him.

###### 

Zack forewent his crutches and poured his everything into the walk out of the building and to where a large marquee stood. The place bustled and teemed with people—mostly reporters. Cameras flashed. Zack had been used to one or two, but this was an _ocean._ Scarlet walked next to him. She droned in hushed tones near his ear what he needed to do and what he needed to say. She reminded him not to mess up, reminded him to smile, to look this way and that. 

He held his chin up high, and plastered on the smile as he stood before the media vultures. His heart raced. His palms dripped. This is what it should have been like had the mission been successful. Instead, he had to soak in the shame of the failure of that day. 

The flashes popped like muzzle bursts. His brain short-circuited. He was back out in the field—the sun glared, the heat blistered—he shook his head and willed himself back into the present moment. 

He couldn’t afford to break down now. Not in front of all his bosses. He couldn’t afford to show the world what a mess he was, or how useless he’d become. He breathed and looked out across the crowd. His vision swam. Familiar faces dotted the sea of strangers. Familiar dead faces. Familiar alive faces. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the haunted specters at bay. He forced the smile out and felt it mix with anger. He breathed. These fucking flashes and these fucking flashbacks. He stayed focused on his breath. He drew on _everything_ his therapist had ever taught him. He faced the stairs. The fucking stairs. Scarlet’s words about not making the military look bad, about not making her look bad, or make himself look bad, rang in his ears. No sign of weakness could be shown. But the stairs. His head felt fuzzy. His ears rang. 

He ascended to get to the podium with an iron grip on the metal rail. He forced his leg to play the part it was supposed to. He couldn’t falter. Couldn’t miss a step as he took one. And another one. And anoth— _fuck!_ His knee locked out. He jerked—his name rang through the air and mixed with the heart-stopping boom of an explosion somewhere in the distance. He shook his head—recovered from that fucking stumble—and kept up his movements with his plastered-on smile. Just a little further. Up the damn stairs, over to the executioner's podium.

He’d made it. He stood there. His smile as fake as his leg. He gripped the podium so tight it could have splintered had it been made from wood. He breathed. He focused on reciting the stupid speech that had been drilled into his skull. He looked out into the sea of people, skipped over the visions of the dead, and focused on those who were alive—the ones he knew to still be alive. He saw his squad. His family. His friends. What he wouldn’t have given to see Cloud out there with his smile of encouragement. He missed him so damn much. But Cloud didn’t want him. Didn’t want a failure. Didn’t want the mockery of a hero like Zack was. 

He smiled. He waved. He talked. He talked about all the bullshit lies he was supposed to give. He talked empty words that would drive the nail into the coffin of any potential future prospects of a relationship he might have had with Cloud. Zack wondered for the umpteenth time why he hadn't said anything. He kicked himself for it. He had to remind himself that he’d get his chance. But first, he had to survive this press junket.

He pushed on, doing what he was supposed to do: play his part. Pretend to be the hero they all thought him to be. A hero of lies. He hated every second of it and didn’t know how he would be able to keep this up indefinitely. He’d thought that the hospital had been a prison and that getting his leg and getting out would spell freedom. But now he didn’t know if he actually wanted freedom. The price he’d have to pay seemed too steep. And as he talked he felt the skin on his face and felt the scar on his cheek. And he thought—not for the first or the last time—how nice it might have been, if that bullet had not missed its mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We end on no song. Just silence for this chapter.  
> Can I get one GIANT ‘OOF’ for that end bit? If I hurt you just know I hurt myself as well whilst writing (and re-reading) it.  
> That end bit where Zack suffers is my favorite bit of writing in this chapter. Might even be my favorite thing in this whole fic 🤭
> 
> I hope you're still buying the slow burn and can see why Zack just… can't… make a move. He's got so many issues and it's gonna be fun resolving (or getting him part-way to resolving) these issues in the remaining chapters.
> 
> Also, 'HELLO!' Kunsel! He came back and turns out he's got a spicy history with Zack. Originally he didn't have spicy history. They were just best bros. Capt. BA kinda kept twisting and poking me with remarks until it made so much sense that their relationship became canon in the story 😅 Also fair warning… I got horny and wrote an alternative barber scene where Zack said 'yes' when Kunsel offered to do what best bros just do for each other 🤭 You can read it [here on my Tumblr](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/Kintsukuroi-ch16-zunsel-haircut)
> 
>  **Master Chief Carl Brashear** is a real person. Look him up 😃 I was hesitant to mention real-world stuff but have decided that since I have brands and songs I might as well embrace the hybrid nature of the text and include historical people as well, especially since this is a bit of a love letter to amazing and incredible people in general. Please, if you know of any more people, drop their names and wiki pages (or their stories) in the comments section, so we can celebrate them and get to know their names! I would really love that. They don't even have to be 'famous'. They could be brave people you know in your own lives. Obviously don't out them with their real names then. But stories are always wonderful. 👌
> 
> Last bit of news… I was supposed to go back to weekly chapter updates but, I am sorry to say, I will be continuing with fortnightly updates until mid to late March. Life has been busy and the second last chapter is kicking my ass as I have to rewrite a lot and add a lot of new content (and probably split that chapter into 2?!). 
> 
> A note about how I work - when I update weekly I end up obsessing about the next in line to update chapter. I try to perfect it. I read and re-read it so much that I end up spending no time on editing future chapters. So by leaving more time between updates I let myself actually work on what needs to be desperately worked on. I'm also waiting on an art commission to be finished for a later chapter and want to give my friend enough time to create something we are both happy with.
> 
> Win win for all. And patience is a virtue. I'm pushing very close to 300k words for this fic so we are a bit over halfway as of this and the previous chapter. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos have, and continue, to inspire me and bring me endless joy. Thank you, one and all 🙏


	17. Dinner(Date)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zack and Cloud go out for their dinner (date).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, it's Valentines' day in the real world. Fitting for Cloud and Zack to go out for their dinner(date) today. How auspicious 😆
> 
> There is a chapter warning for significant bodily harm but it's nothing gory or ( _too_ )graphic.
> 
> I've tried to anchor the footnote you will see in the chapter below. In _theory_ it should take you to the end notes so you can get more info about the in-text footnote, and then the 'back' link down there should take you back to where you left off reading. I hope it works. Let's see 😄🤞
> 
> And lastly... just remember... there are many chapters left to go and we are only just a bit over the half-way mark in terms of word count.
> 
> I hope you do enjoy 😘

After he’d come out of the hospital it had started one of the longest, most hectic weeks of Zack’s life. There was an expectation for him to slip back into his life and routine. And he happily did that, but what frustrated him the most was the hypocrisy. ‘You’re a soldier, so act like one and get on with it.’ But they refused to actually let him get on with what he’d done before. He was still slated to go to Fort Condor and his first week at Junon Barracks was all geared toward getting him ready for the move. He underwent orientation, some more physical and cognitive exams, and was expected to fall in line with the duties that needed to be completed at the barracks.

While on duty he met so many people. So many people who saw him walk around, unaided. So many who watched him make his way up and down stairs. There seemed to be a stupidly unreasonable amount of stairs at the barracks. It added to his general sense of discomfort because stairs had always been one of those things he’s taken for granted and had never thought about as an obstacle to overcome. But now his heart fell every time he came face to face with a set.

It wasn’t just the stairs either. There were so many things in his life that needed to be overcome nowadays, like his balance: the slightest unevenness in the ground could make him stumble. The waking up in the mornings and forgetting that he didn’t have a leg sometimes was (not) fun because he only figured that fact out after he was halfway to falling back down against the bed—or the floor if he was unlucky. But it was smaller things too: the fact that he had to hop to turn around. He couldn’t just pivot. Sometimes his leg kicked out if he didn’t concentrate on keeping pressure on the micro-compressor. Sweat collected where his stump sat against the well of the prosthetic. All these little things stopped him from just getting on with life. These smaller, unexpected things were what bugged him the most. Little hints and jabs that reminded him of what he’d lost, and what he’d have to fight to regain, or adjust to. Every day was a fight. A struggle.

He sort of looked forward to going to Fort Condor. Not the part where he’d need to be trained up in bullshit skills he had no interest in learning. It was more the part where there were fewer stairs that interested him. He’d been to the fort at least twice in the past. He didn’t remember there being quite so many stairs.

His time at the barracks wasn’t complete hell though. He had his own lodgings: an abandoned communications hub which had semi-recently (if a decade could be called such a thing) been somewhat refurbished to house military personnel with severe injuries and dis—Zack shook his head and grimaced. He didn't enjoy that word associated with himself. His temporary abode stood on the ground floor of the three-story old concrete (and probably asbestos-infused) building. The floorboards creaked, the hot water pipes made a terrible racket, and the handrails and easy-access features seemed haphazardly placed with no care or thought put into actual functionality when it came to living there.

But this was his home for the remaining next few days, and at least the bed, which was in a separate sectioned-off space, was better than a hospital bed. The apartment smelled musty and damp though, and something dripped from the ceiling in one of the corners of the living space, even when there was no rain. But it was his place and no one could intrude and just _enter_ when it pleased then. He had to physically go and unlock the door. 

He felt happy about that. Happy about having his _own_ space and not needing to bunk or share. Not that a Sergeant should bunk with cadets but he also didn’t put it past his bosses to have done something like that to help _boost morale_. Boost it by having everyone laugh at him—behind his back—he thought grimly.

Everyone acted nice; of course they did. It was actually nice to see new faces and have new conversations. Sort of new anyway. After about day 3 conversations became repetitive as they revolved around his hospitalization and his body, and in a roundabout way, his capability. Which pissed him off. People judged him day and night. In the barracks, and outside of it. 

He caught some of the speculations that the media stirred up about his situation and what it meant for him and the military. He heard it in the TV broadcasts and the radio talkback that echoed through the barrack halls. He was asked questions at various interviews. Scarlet had prepared him for everything, of course. He hated being asked though.

Everyone talked about his future: what it would look like, what he’d never do again. Zack got so sick of it. While he couldn’t escape it when out and about doing his _duty_ he certainly had more control of what he got exposed to when he was at the barracks. He had some success with shutting it out. 

He was left alone when he wasn’t carted off to meetings, media conferences, or further assessments in regards to his mental and physical abilities. He could choose when to attend the mess hall—breakfast and dinner mostly—to avoid the lunchtime crowds and looks.

Zack didn’t enjoy withdrawing from others. He’d never been like this in the past. He didn’t like being like this now. He hoped he’d get over himself soon. Hoped he would master the leg, master the stairs, and most importantly get some meaningful work happening for himself. Being Scarlet's whipping boy was not his idea of a good time. Getting sympathy from talk-show hosts was not his idea of validation.

He didn’t _need_ validation. All he needed was for his leg to not be such a pain. Literally and figuratively. It gave him trouble: maneuvering on it and adjusting to the amount of effort everything took was incredibly taxing for him. After a full day out with Scarlet he barely had energy to even get himself to the mess hall for dinner some nights. He still made his way there though. If he didn’t show up what message might that send? That he was weak? Ashamed? He was one of those things. Maybe even both. But to hell with letting others see how embarrassed he felt over how quickly he tired. He kept his shaken and weakened self-belief hidden inside and did his best to ooze confidence. It was made hard when he stayed up at night thinking. It eroded his hopes and dreams. It made the voices in his head that said he couldn’t do what he wanted to do, stronger. He tossed and turned and thought about what would be left for him and his life. It wasn’t good for him and made him weary for the next days workload. 

He didn’t have anywhere to take those doubts and concerns to. His busy work schedule didn’t include his outpatient clinic sessions. They were deemed unimportant compared to all the other things he needed to do for work. He barely had enough time for his exercises or workouts… which he was fine with. Being at the gym was uncomfortable for him. Too many prying eyes. He preferred to be on his own, working with a dedicated physio or OT. He really missed Brad and all his torturous ways.

Mostly though, he really missed Cloud and longed for his company—but not to off-load his problems on to. He just wanted Cloud.

So when Tuesday _finally_ arrived it was a big deal. Zack exercised some of his influence to make sure he’d keep his dinner appointment with Cloud. Everything else was of little to no importance in comparison to that. He missed everything about Cloud. He wondered how Cloud was doing. He didn’t want to use this evening to talk about inside stuff. Even though he sat on a mountain of it. He didn’t want to use Cloud like that. He didn’t want to make him worry. He just wanted to enjoy their time together and maybe, possibly, hopefully… figure out if he could keep Cloud in his life in some way. 

To achieve that though he needed everything to be perfect. That was the part he wasn’t as confident about, especially when he looked at his imperfect body in the mirror inside of the bedroom wardrobe.

Zack observed himself. Mauve long-sleeved shirt: check. Black leather jacket: check. Black jeans: check. He took a few steps and watched how the fabric moved around his leg. Something still looked off about his gait, which frustrated him. He hadn't been able to get his swagger back—or it was over-pronounced because of his prosthetic? But when he stood still he looked like his old self, just a lot weaker: thinner, reedy—deflated. He felt deflated. Sure, he could admit that he looked better than before but it wasn’t _right._ He had been told to focus on the positive aspects of his recovery, to be content instead of chasing dreams. But that wasn't who he was—and he'd told his therapist as much, but he also understood what her point had been. 

He had never struggled to see the bright side of life… until now. Until his own adversity had smacked him so hard in the face that it had ripped him limb from limb.

Zack stood still and shifted his weight. His limb and core trembled. He’d had a busy day on the media trail. He was weary. His body needed a rest. But it could wait until tomorrow. “You can do this, Fair. You _will_ do this. You owe it to Cloud. You owe it to yourself,” he began his pep talk and swung his arms to get some motion into his body. “You got this. You’re handsome—yes you are. With clothes on. Sure. Cloud really likes you. Likes you enough to have invited you out.” His arms got his hips to pivot. The motion tugged at him with temptation. He began to do squats. Not anywhere near as deep as he’d like—one could hardly call them squats at all, really—but the motion still soothed him. “You just have to nail it tonight. Kiss him. Hold him. Tell him. You love him. Easy—” He swung his arms too far back, went too deep—he landed on his ass and hissed. “Okay, do _not_ do squats when you're out in public and nervous. Got it?” he told himself and got off his bruised ass and tried to soothe his even more bruised ego.

He straightened out his clothes, shrugged, and tugged at the jacket, which, to his chagrin, didn’t fit as snug as it once had—but that wasn’t anything new or unexpected. He shook the embarrassing fall from his body. “You’re just tired today. That’s all. Do squats tomorrow and they’ll be perfect. Guaranteed.” He pushed out a smile and focused on the positives: he could get his muscle, endurance, and strength back. He’d already seen _some_ improvements in his biceps and thighs—even his left side. His stability, and in turn his confidence, had grown. It was all a confidence issue, right? He just had to _believe_ and everything would fix itself. Yeah? But he missed himself. Missed his life, his capabilities, his… previously unshakeable self-belief.

All the questions directed at him day in and day out didn’t help. The fact that he had to fundamentally change his career didn’t help. What was the point of going on if he couldn’t do what he loved?

He sighed, left his room, and headed for the front door of his small sectioned-off apartment. He grabbed the butterfinger he’d left out on a shabby little side table. It was the only gift he had been able to get Cloud at short notice. Not that a week had been short notice. But he’d hummed and hawed for too long about what might be appropriate and had come up short. So a butterfinger from a vending machine had to do. Cloud had told him it was his favorite so _hopefully_ it wouldn't seem completely like a deadbeat gift. But this lack of effort was _exactly_ why he didn’t have relationships with people. He sucked at them. He’d never worried about sucking at them until now. He felt so shabby. Even his pep-talk hadn’t motivated him long enough to keep all the shit out of his brain. He thought of Cloud again. That made him smile. That got him excited and made any ordeal he’d have to face tonight worth it.

He pocketed the butterfinger and moved with forced ease. The rock and sway in his steps, the way he had to propel himself forward and shift his whole center of gravity to achieve something he’d taken for granted his entire life, troubled him. Zack didn’t hate it. It was better than a wheelchair. Better than not moving at all. So much better. It was just something to get used to. He preferred wearing a leg compared to going without one on. He especially preferred his ‘dress’ leg—the one which was molded after his existing leg and which made him look most like his old self. Though he also found his mechanical leg pretty cool. It had a barebones design, was a lot lighter, and didn’t clip onto his press fit with so much extra padding around the stump and joint, like his other leg had. He also had been given a leg with a blade attachment. That was his active leg, as he called it, and it was the coolest of the three. If he wanted to do cardio it was his go-to leg. He itched to give it a go—if he ever found the time or privacy!

The possibility of working out brought him some joy. But tonight was all about looking his best, so the dress leg it was. He felt so eager for his dinner with Cloud… but there was a catch—the media pack outside. He’d been trailed since he left the hospital. People wanted their exclusives without going through Scarlet—which the woman was very unhappy about. Zack also thought she had a feud going with one or two—or to be real, _five_ news outlets and trash magazines, so Zack was a high-value target to be snapped and gossiped about. The thought of that made him scrunch his face up in disgust. 

He worried about how easily he could imagine Cloud’s mortified face if he rocked up to the restaurant with a hoard of media tagging behind. He needed to do something. He needed to shake them. It bothered Zack immensely. He had made Cloud uncomfortable enough to last a lifetime. He had no intention of adding to it, so he had arranged something of a distraction. He waited for it now, as he stood by the front door of his apartment

He eyed his forearm crutches which rested against the wall by the front door. He considered taking them. He felt so tired. But the crutches would slow him down—make him stand out. Cloud would be mad if he didn't take them, though. Zack smiled at that thought. He really couldn’t justify taking them. He opted for the retractable walking stick Kunsel had given him. 

A rapid knock sounded at the door to indicate that the planned decoy and distraction were ready and he was in the clear to hoof it.

“Alright, it’s go time!” With sweaty palms and a congo beat in his chest, he headed outside where the cold air hit him. He made eye-contact with the men who’d just knocked at his door and headed in the opposite direction to them: instead of the main entrance, just a stone's throw away across the large concrete square, he headed out along the building’s perimeter and down a path that led to the back entry gate used for loading and military vehicles. He could hear an engine start up from where he’d just come. He hoped it would be enough to shake the media sharks and hurried for the gate which wound down to a suburban street where a bus stop stood and, _hopefully,_ his arranged-for cab. 

He’d scheduled his passage with the guards on duty. Other than a few quiet goodnights they let him be as he rushed past. His unnatural gait felt more pronounced as he hurried. The micro-compressor was wonderful but he still had to push off with more strength and pop his hip up as he went. He could almost disguise it if he went slow, but there was no time for that right now.

He made his way down and out of the base and when he got onto the street he swiveled his head to see if he’d been followed. He couldn’t spot anyone suspicious, and the few people who walked around on this chilly November night paid him no mind.

He located the cab and—with cursed struggle—slowly slid himself into the passenger seat of the car. Brad had mentioned that getting in and out of cars would be a challenge. Zack had laughed at the time and joked about it being just one more thing to add to the list. But he was really upset about it. Especially now that he’d had practice at it and could _see_ what an annoyance it actually was. He had to sit down, grab his leg, and lift it into the cab where he positioned it into the footwell. He couldn’t just hop in and go. His vague plan B—become a driver of tanks and other military vehicles—had shattered the first day he'd gotten in and out of a car. 

He maneuvered himself into the car, dealt with the humiliating slowness of it all, and finally pulled the door shut.

The cab driver had looked at him the entire time and finally said, “All good, sir?”

“Yep. The Royal Rump on Third avenue, thanks.”

“My pleasure, sir.” The cabby started the car and drove off and then began his small talk. He recognized Zack from all the news and media spots he’d done. Zack’s heart sank but he entertained the questions and conversation, all the while wondering how far away the restaurant was from the barracks.

It was quite a far way away, but at least the cab driver lost interest in general chit chat and grew far more interested in voicing his own opinions about the political climate and the state of the military budget.

Zack stared out the window and thought about Cloud. Thought about how this was his absolute _last_ chance to rescue having a future with him. If Cloud had been well and truly done with him he wouldn’t have made dinner reservations. And even if Cloud wouldn’t see a future with him—because how could anyone ever consider Zack for something like that now—Cloud might still be open to a friendship—be open to staying in touch. That would be better than nothing at all.

Hope returned to him by the time he got to his destination. Excitement eased some of the humiliation Zack felt over the way he had to hoist himself out of the cab. He paid the cab fare with the military-issued credit card, and lugged himself over, as naturally as possible, to the restaurant with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, fanciful writing on the doors, and a pretty full and bustling interior.

He sat down in the waiting area inside the warm establishment and rubbed his stump. The cold made it ache. It was like the temperature affected the press-fit as it protruded from his body. It seemed to act like a lightning rod and drew the cold straight into his thigh-bone. He felt stiffer than usual. His leg throbbed. His shin hurt, which aggravated him as this part of his body no longer existed. Glassware clinked, soft murmurs ebbed and flowed. Zack paid attention to these things in favor of hyper-fixating over his bodily sensations. 

The place was fairly crowded. Every time the door opened a gust of chill air swept inside and drew Zack’s attention to the couples entering the establishment. Whenever it happened he averted his gaze and hoped to go unnoticed. A part of him longed for a private room he could hang out with Cloud in, but really, as long as he could see Cloud again, and soon, he could put up with the crowd.

Zack got stuck thinking about the interior of the restaurant. This definitely felt like a dinner-date sort of a place, instead of a tavern one would go to for a casual hangout with friends or comrades. Zack was glad he’d gotten dressed up for this. The flutters stormed inside his stomach. Maybe all the vague signaling had worked after all? If it hadn't then Zack decided he needed to own up to his feelings before the night ended.

This, realistically, would be the last time he’d see Cloud again. The last face to face conversation they would have before he got shipped off to Fort Condor. He had to make the most of it. Had to say a better goodbye than their farewell hug at the hospital. Zack had to smuggle in a kiss. That's what he told himself. A small kiss and an, 'I love you—yeah, for real. Romantic feelings and everything,' type of confession. Anything else more subtle would probably go over Cloud's head. Despite the heartache Cloud's oblivious denials left in Zack's chest, he also wore a smile. He loved Cloud's quirks. Even if it meant the man was dense and required very blatant signals.

Though… his smile slipped. There was always the possibility that Cloud wasn't oblivious: he just wasn't interested. Because of Zack's past and his future and his values which all rubbed Cloud the wrong way. It was a possibility of course, but at this late stage in the game Zack figured he needed to try and get a definitive answer from Cloud. He had nothing to lose. Right?

Zack felt irritated at himself for having left it so late. For not having had the courage to be blatant and sickeningly obvious in the past. If Cloud _was_ receptive and eager it would mean that they could have snuggled so much more. Could have spent the last few months in each other's arms and shared kisses. Heat sparked inside of Zack. He still hadn’t gotten his previous desires and appetites back but when he thought about Cloud he felt marginally like his old self again. A part of him wanted to explore that… but then, when he saw himself and thought about his deficiencies all desire fizzled out again.

A gust of cold air blew. Zack looked over. The smile leaped across his face and he rose—the awkward imbalance and aches forgotten at the sight of Cloud dressed head to toe in his black riding gear. Zack’s stomach flipped.

Cloud smiled. It was the only thing he needed to wear to send a shiver through Zack.

“Hey, buddy!” He reflexively extended his arms.

"Hi." Cloud stepped up to him and threw his arms around Zack.

The enthusiasm surprised Zack. The cold of the leather chilled him, but the embrace felt so good. He couldn’t let go. He squeezed Cloud tight and inhaled the fresh scent and the slight fruity notes that clung to blond tufts of hair.

Cloud pulled back and dropped down. His smile sat all the more vibrant. "I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I? I couldn't find a place to park."

Zack noticed the blue shirt which peeked up around Cloud's stiff jacket collar. He also noted the weird red bouquet that Cloud held. “No, not long. What’s that?” He nodded at the bundle.

“Oh, ah…” Cloud’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “I wanted to give you something.” He stiffly lifted his arm and held up the object—a bouquet of—

“Twizzlers! Oh my God! That’s awesome.” Zack grabbed the candy which was neatly tied up and bunched together. Hershey’s Kisses were tied to the sticks of red. “Cloud!” Zack pulled Cloud close and held him in a fierce embrace. His heart sang over the confectionary gift. “It’s perfect! You’re perfect.” He squeezed Cloud even harder and buried his nose in the crook of Cloud’s neck. Zack basked in the sunshine-like warmth which radiated off Cloud, even though he’d just come in from the cold. Zack held on, unsure he’d ever remember how to let go.

Cloud chuckled and pushed against Zack. That worked and Zack remembered to respect Cloud’s personal space. He stepped back. “You really know your way to a man’s heart, yanno that?” He couldn’t stop smiling. “And hey, look. I got you something as well.” He fished for the butterfinger candy bar from his pocket and held it out.

Surprise widened Cloud’s face. His smile grew and grew. He chuckled and took it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Zack looked at the bouquet in his hand and lifted it to smell the delicious fragrance. “Mmm.”

Cloud shook with laughter. “Are you hungry?”

“Starvin’,” Zack pulled out one of the twizzlers. 

“Don’t ruin your appetite.”

“Just having a little nibble. You can eat yours too if you want.” He gestured to the held bar and put the twizzler in his mouth. He pulled on it, broke a bit off, and returned the leftover piece to the bouquet. 

“I’ll keep it safe and eat it later. Thanks again.” Cloud pocketed it.

Zack grinned and couldn't stop his smile as he looked, and looked, and _looked_ at Cloud. Had he applied mascara? The blue of his eyes sparkled in the yellow light. “You look amazing.” He drank in the sight of Cloud in leather.

“Ah… thanks… y-you too.” Cloud’s eyes darted on and off. His gaze lingered on Zack’s leg.

Zack doubted Cloud’s sincerity and shifted with discomfort. “Hey, so… ah, dinner?” He nodded in the direction of the seats. “If you don’t want me to eat all of these—” he gestured to the twizzlers, “then I think we better get a seat.”

Cloud nodded. “On it.” He took the lead and gave his booking name. They were shown to their seats. They both took their jackets off and slung them over the back of their chairs. Zack left the twizzlers on the table and stepped across so he could pull Cloud's chair out for him.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Cloud’s lip quirked with a smile.

They both sat and Cloud stole the briefest of glances at Zack between his careful inspection of the tableware as he ran his fingers over the tablecloth. 

Zack wondered if Cloud's heart raced as hard as his did. With a deep breath, he said, “This is a bit surreal, huh? Or is it just me?”

“No!” Cloud flung his head up. “It’s… definitely strange being outside with you.” His cheeks turned pink. “But in a good way,” Cloud tacked on, hastily.

Butterflies tickled his gut. Zack felt so happy. His smile stretched across his face. Cloud liked him. He knew that, and now, with the hospital no longer being the thing that bound them together Zack should really find the courage to ask Cloud out… not that he knew what being with Cloud would entail, especially when they were far apart. Zack huffed. He’d never done relationships well. He’d always been too focused on work and having fun. Cloud was special though. Cloud deserved the best—what if Zack couldn’t give him even 10% of what he deserved?

“It’s really great that you’re finally out of the hospital. What have you been up to with all your freedom?” Cloud said.

Zack blinked. The realization that he couldn’t offer Cloud anything meaningful rocked him—what had Cloud said? “Freedom…” he huffed. It had been said in jest but it rubbed Zack the wrong way. “I wish. I’m doing a lot of press conferences and interviews—I don’t know if you’ve caught any of them,” he asked, hopeful that maybe Cloud had been pining for him.

But Cloud shook his head. Zack’s heart sank. Of course… why should he have expected anything different? Cloud wasn’t _interested_. Cloud _liked_ him, Zack was certain of it, but Cloud wasn’t paying attention and didn’t want to know more outside of polite conversations or mental breakdowns. “Well, I’m at Junon Barracks. They put me up in this refurbished old hole that they call _lodgings,_ ” he did air quotes. “I’m not really free to go anywhere though because of the media following me around. I managed to get away tonight because I pulled a favor and had a decoy.”

“You needed a decoy?”

“Yeah.” Zack couldn’t hide the grimace.

“Wow. Sounds like a mission. I’m sorry. If I knew it would have been so much trouble coming out—”

Zack tutted Cloud and waved his hand. “No. No, no, no… it was fun actually, and I wouldn’t miss this dinner for the world.” He gave his brightest smile. He couldn’t give up. Cloud might not be interested but Zack still pinned his hopes on the ‘oblivious’ angle. If he stopped dreaming and no longer aimed for the clouds then what was the point of even being alive?

Cloud smiled and handed Zack a menu. “What do you feel like having? I’ll pay.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I can pay.”

Cloud’s brows furrowed slightly. “I’d like to.”

Zack breathed out noisily. It was sweet of him. Maybe this was a date after all. He smiled. “How about we deal with it when we get the check?”

Cloud nodded. “So. Any idea about what’ll you be having?”

Zack clicked open the menu and grinned. “Steak.” 

“Good choice.”

“What about you?”

Cloud perused his menu for a moment and then looked back up at Zack. “Steak as well. What’s the point of coming here if we don’t eat what they are famous for?”

“Excellent point.” Zack chuckled.

Cloud’s smile sparkled. “The restaurant’s okay, right? It’s not too formal for you, is it?”

“Nah, it’s perfect.” Zack sniffed the air. “I saw some of what was on people's plates. I want a steak as big as my head!” He gestured.

Cloud laughed. “We’re in the right place then.”

“Totally. And the dessert menu looks really good too. I’m definitely getting an appetite.”

They grinned at each other and talked while ordering their meals. Zack ran Cloud through the meals he’d been served up at the various press-junkets he’d been to and ranked them from worst to best.

“E-excuse me?” A woman said, coming up to them and stood too close for comfort to their table.

They looked up at her.

“Yes?” Zack asked.

“Are you Sergeant Fair?”

“Ah…” His heart sank. “I am.”

Her whole face lit up and a waterfall of words tumbled out. “You’ve been absolutely amazing. I’ve been following you—the stories on the news I mean. I’m sorry. It’s just such an honor to meet you, after all you did and all you’ve been through. I just wanted to tell you that I’m a huge fan.” She went on to list a bunch of Zack’s media appearances and then finished by thanking him for his service and, “Can I get you a beer?”

“Ah… sure.”

She disappeared. Zack looked over at Cloud. “God, that was weird, huh.”

Cloud hummed.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

They weren’t left alone. A man came up to Zack, and the conversation went much like before. He had another offer of a beer even as the first one arrived. Zack accepted and offered that one to Cloud.

Cloud reluctantly accepted.

By the third offer of a beer Zack flat-out refused but thanked them kindly.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Zack apologized once more to Cloud. He was painfully aware of all the talking he was doing about the military as people kept dropping in on his dinner with Cloud. Even if it wasn’t his own doing, he still wished he could somehow steer clear of bringing up work stuff in front of Cloud.

“I didn’t realize I was out with such a celebrity.” Cloud smiled and chuckled.

“I didn’t know I was one either. I thought all the appointments and meetings Scarlet made for me were just her being pushy…” But maybe people were genuinely interested in him? He shifted his leg and felt like a circus oddity.

“You’re a national treasure and everyone wants to know your story.” Cloud held the smile and fingered the beer glass.

Zack almost scoffed over that remark but the arrival of their meals stopped him. It also seemed to dissuade the conveyor belt of admirers from approaching, so Zack considered it a blessing all around. He didn’t like this sort of attention—not when he was a fraud, and definitely not when he looked like he did. Shame sat high in his chest and clogged his head. In the past, he had drunk up any attention that flew his way. In fact, it’s how he’d always _gotten some._ He didn't want any now though—he only wanted to be left alone with Cloud. 

He managed to get his wish as they ate their meal. They talked about all kinds of things. Zack tried to steer clear of topics related to his work but Cloud asked him things out of conventional politeness, so he answered, but veered off on tangents.

They polished off their mains and a few more people came up to Zack to have a chat. Zack got up and went to the washroom and also to take the conversations elsewhere so he wouldn’t bother Cloud.

He came back to find dessert served up. He apologized some more to Cloud and they got stuck into their food and conversation. Cloud told him about the latest odd deliveries he’d done. And Zack, upon the request from Cloud, recounted his discharge day’s big press conference. He talked about the crowd, about how he almost tripped and fell, and about how dumb the speech was he’d given. He left out the bits where he’d been bombarded by flashbacks though. He never wanted to worry Cloud if he could help it. 

“I don’t think I’m a master of stairs just yet.” Zack smiled and cut into his slice of chocolate cake.

“You’ll get there. How’s your rehab going?”

“Aahhh… it’s on hold right now.”

“Oh, what? Really?” Cloud put his fork down and stared at Zack.

“Yeah. Mm… I’ve been run off my foot”—he gave a lopsided sneer—“with meetings and interviews and other people planning my future. So the meetings have sort of been cut back on.”

“That’s…” Cloud frowned so hard his nose wrinkled. “That’s terrible. They can’t do that. You need to keep up your rehab stuff. If they want you serving they need to get you all the help you need to get better.”

Zack chuckled with no mirth. “You’re assuming they _want me_ back _._ Well… they want me—Scarlet wants me,” he shuddered, “but it’s not how I want them to want me, yanno?” His heart yearned for Cloud at that moment. He wanted Cloud to want him how he wanted to be wanted. It seemed about as impossible as altering his career path at present.

Cloud scowled and whispered, “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Zack’s heart hurt like he’d been stabbed. He laughed. “It’s alright. Really. I think I’ve gotta jump through some hoops before I get back to where I wanna be.” 

“You think you’ll be able to get back on combat duty and deployments?”

“Well…" There was a fine line between not worrying Cloud and outright lying to him. Zack didn't see any point in keeping up the charade that he'd be able to serve the way he wanted. He didn't want Cloud to think he was delusional. "Okay, maybe I need to level with you. Reality is, my life’s not gonna be how I want it to be—I can’t do the things I did before. But that’s okay. There's other plans I'm excited about in the pipelines.” Maybe if he said it enough times he might actually believe it one day.

An indescribable sad expression crossed Cloud's face which mystified Zack. “What’s with that look?” he ventured.

Cloud glanced up. His lashes fluttered. “Will you really be okay?”

“Of course.” There was a pinch in Zack’s chest. He had so many doubts and worries. His dreams were crushed. He couldn’t let on. “There’ll be a position for me at Fort Condor. The fact that I haven’t been let go is good. They want me around. If it’s to do paperwork then—” He shrugged, and bit down his grimace. He plastered on a big grin. “So be it. Maybe it will be my true calling. Who knows. World’s wide open to new possibilities. I’ve just gotta take ‘em.”

Cloud didn’t look soothed or impressed.

“It’s really gonna be okay.” Zack tried to reassure.

“But what if it’s not?”

“Huh?”

“What if you’re about to make a huge mistake?”

“Whaddya mean?”

A mix of emotions crossed Cloud’s face. He looked down at his spoon, heaped with cheesecake. “I’m sorry. Please just ignore that I said anything.” He got stuck into his dessert with determination.

“No, buddy. What was that all about? What’s going on?” Zack reached out across the table to touch Cloud before he could even think twice. He stopped short of grasping Cloud though, despite his hand being tantalizingly close. The proximity felt maddening. He craved Cloud’s touch and then, just like that, Cloud reached for, and slid his hand right over the top of his. Cloud held him tight. 

The touch was like slipping into a warm bath after a long, grueling day. Zack breathed out pleasurable relief. 

“It’s dumb stuff and… and I don’t think it actually has anything to do with you. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else.” 

“Clearly, something’s got you worked up and worried. You can talk to me about your inside stuff, yanno?” Zack smiled for reassurance.

Cloud sank with a sigh. He cast a woeful smile at Zack and squeezed his hand. “I guess… this is bringing up some stuff for me… stuff I thought I’d gotten over but…” he shrugged and ate more of his cake with his free hand.

“I’m here for ya, buddy. I’ll listen.” Zack chomped at the bit to be of some use to Cloud. To prove his worth. Prove to Cloud that he wasn’t a dumb military guy—that he could be someone Cloud could confide in and have in his life. He waited while Cloud’s brain ticked over in that familiar way: eyes downcast and darting around unseeing things, completely lost in thought, his shoulders tense.

“When I was diagnosed…” Cloud started, slow and measured, “it changed how I saw myself. It was good… but also bad.” Cloud looked up at Zack briefly. “I think… when I _really_ think about what I thought and did, I think I… I _know_ I ran away.” The frown on Cloud’s face etched deep. “I ran away from… a lot of things.” He looked over at Zack again, “Ran from the challenge. I mean… I don't think I can ever beat my illness but I probably could have—” Cloud’s face twisted with disdain. “I guess I have regrets. I'm mad at myself that I gave up and ran away. I guess… you being okay with doing paperwork sort of… hits home? Some days I wish I had swallowed my pride and stayed and taken the jobs that people were willing to…” Cloud winced, “hand to me.”

Zack turned his hand palm up under Cloud’s hold and clasped him tight. He couldn’t believe his lie was making Cloud feel so shitty about himself. “No,” he said, almost hoarse. 

Cloud looked up at him. Sadness furrowed his brows. A question sat there.

He couldn’t tell Cloud. He had to keep things positive. “The way you feel… the way you _hate_ the idea… you can’t wish—you don’t like the military, Cloud. You don’t. And you shouldn’t ever force yourself to like it.” He felt like he was shooting himself in his one good foot, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was to wipe that pained look off Cloud’s face. “We all have regrets, but we learn to move on from them—and maybe that sounds like total shit coming from me because of what I hold on to but… well, I consider myself an expert at beating myself up over my past mistakes so…” 

His squad flashed through his mind—the commands he’d given—the impatience—the ambush—the fault. It squarely sat with him. He was no hero. He had merely tried to clear up the mess he’d made—a shooting pain ran up his leg and his scars felt like thick patches on his skin as he winced and breathed against the intense and sharp sting—“I’m not saying that you quitting was a mistake. You’re brave, Cloud. I stand by that. You’re so brave. The bravest. You made a hard choice at a challenging time in your life. But the fact that you _made_ a choice is brave. It’s so easy to just stay in the same routine and stay in terrible comfort. But you didn’t. You moved on.” Zack wondered then if he could also move on. Do something else. Why suffer through something he knew he hated? Maybe a delivery job with Cloud? Working for Tifa? Or he might start his own business? But what was he even good at? 

Shockingly enough, the guy whom Zack had thought knew exactly what he wanted and had gone out to get it… actually didn’t? It didn’t sit well with him that Cloud had misgivings. It made him feel hopeless. If Cloud couldn’t get himself together, what hope was there for him?

“I guess,” Cloud muttered. “But… I can’t shake this feeling that I wish I had stayed. I wish I had stuck around for a bit. Given it a go, y’know?”

Zack shook his head. “No. Why?”

Cloud stayed quiet for a while. He searched around the table for an answer. His brow furrowed and he spoke, slowly, “I want to know if I could have been happy…”

Those words shot Zack through the heart. “You're not happy?”

Cloud snapped his eyes up at Zack and gave a wide stare. “No. I am… well… I mean. Mm. Maybe I'm not.” He frowned and looked away. “I… um, I feel like I'm going nowhere. Can I see myself doing this delivery job for the rest of my life?" His nose scrunched up. "Doing this will be the easy choice—like staying in the military might have looked like the easy choice.” Cloud rubbed his lips together and looked mighty unsatisfied with those words leaving his mouth. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I would have been miserable if I’d stayed. I’ve had so much shit put on me in the past… but doing that for a living was the only thing I ever thought about, and then I couldn’t, and I just left without thinking—well, I _thought_ I thought about it, but I guess it was a gut reaction. Maybe that’s what I regret more? And now I feel like I can’t go back, but I also don’t like where my future is going.” Cloud sighed. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry for bringing this up.”

“No, it’s okay. Totally okay. I like you talking to me about this stuff… your inside stuff.” Zack smiled. His chest constricted. Emotion pricked his eyes. “Do you mind me asking… why though? What’s made you think about this stuff?—wishing you never quit the military. That doesn't sound like you at all.” He huffed out a gentle chuckle and a part of him hoped that maybe _he_ was the cause of the change of heart.

Cloud nodded and looked at their hands. He squeezed Zack. “I guess… it feels like you’re giving up instead of fighting. Just letting that Scarlet woman walk all over you. I… thought you wouldn’t. I thought you’d fight. And now that you’re resigning yourself to doing paperwork…” Cloud shrugged. “It reminds me of how I gave up and didn’t fight. And it also grows this…” he reached for his chest with his other hand, “hole in my heart, and every day it gets a little bit harder to get up and go to work because I don't care if people get their cocktail umbrellas, or snow globes, or flowers on time. I don’t know if that makes sense…”

The pain in Zack’s chest increased and his stump felt unbearably itchy and hot. So he had been responsible for Cloud’s introspection but… not… like he’d wanted to be. “I’m… disappointing to you?” Of course he was. He was a disappointment to himself.

Cloud’s eyes shot wide open and he stared at Zack. “No. No. Nothing like that. You’re… brave. Really incredible. You… I… I have nothing but respect for you.”

Cloud having nothing but respect for him somehow hurt.

“I hate seeing you down. I hate seeing you resign yourself to your lot in life because of what happened to you. I guess… I wish… if you can’t beat this thing and find happiness then what chance did I ever stand? You know? I just…” Cloud pulled his hand out of Zack’s and cradled his forehead in the palms of his hands as he rested his elbows on the table. “I don’t even know anymore. I’m so sorry for bringing this up.”

Zack felt sick. “We make our own happiness in life, Cloud. I know that much at least. I always thought you left because you knew what would make you happy and the military wasn’t it for you. I have mad respect for you. Me on the other hand… I’m just dumb and don’t know what else in life makes me happy so I keep chasing the same tail, even when I should probably just give up and move on.” Was he talking about his job? Cloud? _Both?_ He didn’t know what he hoped to hold on to. But if he didn’t hold on… the fall… might kill him.

They stayed quiet. The sound of the restaurant came back into focus for Zack. He dug into his cake even though he couldn’t taste it at all. He hated seeing Cloud suffer. He felt responsible and didn’t know how to undo the hurt he’d caused.

Cloud looked up eventually. “I want to see you succeed. I want you to be the best you can be. I want you to stick it to ‘em, Zack,” Cloud said, wearing a serious scowl. “Don’t give up and don’t settle. I want you to be happy and fulfilled doing the job you love. _Don’t settle,_ ” he repeated fiercely. “And don’t let them dictate what you are or aren’t capable of doing. You are fully able. You’ll do amazing things. And I want you to achieve and get everything you set your mind to.” Cloud trembled. His cheeks were red.

Having Cloud’s support held weight and importance to Zack. He sat in awe of the man before him. He wanted to do Cloud so proud and not ever let him down. Not ever give him up. Could he have his job _and_ Cloud? Was he being selfish? Entitled? Hopeful? Definitely a dreamer. Zack’s understanding of Cloud was ever-evolving. Growing in confusion. Cloud hated the military but also wished he could have been—could still?—be a part of it? Cloud wanted to find his happiness but didn’t know where it sat. Zack had always thought his happiness resided in his work but now… he also wasn’t sure anymore. Everything became more confusing. He frowned. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. You always do.”

His best really didn’t feel good enough lately. He smiled anyway. “You really don't care about flower deliveries?”

Cloud huffed and smiled. “Well, maybe I care about those a little. But the rest? Not so much.” He let out a mighty sigh. “I do like my job. I’m just… feeling—” he shrugged. “I feel a bit stuck. I admire you for having dreams. I guess I’m bitter that I used to have some and they got taken away from me. I never got new dreams once I left. I’m just holding on to stuff I really shouldn’t be anymore and doing stuff that's convenient instead of stuff that's challenging and meaningful to me. I don't know what happened to me over the years. I feel like I’ve got nothing left.”

Cloud feeling like he had nothing hurt Zack deep down inside. “You’ve got me.”

Cloud blinked very slowly and his brows furrowed. “You’re leaving.”

A pile of rocks sat in Zack’s gut. “Yeah…” But what if he didn’t? It popped into his head again—the possibility of changing his life, uprooting everything. For what? For Cloud. Would Cloud want that? Would _he_ want that? What even _was_ happiness?

“Hey, um… I’m gonna go wash up. We can leave after,” Cloud said and rose.

“Yeah. Sure.” Zack watched Cloud get up—watched with a heavy heart. Even the sight of how those pants cupped and defined that ass didn’t lighten his mood. Cloud hadn’t said anything about wanting him to stay. Hadn’t said anything really. All Zack did was create hassle for Cloud. All he did was make him think about stuff. Make him unhappy. Zack sighed. He flagged down a waiter and went to pay the bill. 

* * *

The distinct scent of ozone sat heavy in the chilling night air. Cloud had his hands deep in his pockets and hunched in on himself. Zack froze. The last time he’d been properly out he’d been in hot, arid terrain. He was still getting used to being outside, especially at night, in a city with an _actual_ winter which was fast approaching. He tucked his hands under his armpits but tried to look as casual as possible as they stood outside of the restaurant, a good few feet apart.

“Did you like the restaurant?” Cloud ventured.

“Yeah. That was, hands-down, _the best_ steak I’ve ever had. Thank you for going out with me.”

Cloud smiled. “You should have let me pay. I told you I would.”

“Well, look… some kind samaritan paid for our meal so it's not like I had a choice. But if I had I'd still have liked to pay—as a thank you for all of everything you’ve ever done for me.”

“I don't need you to repay me. I would have liked to pay though.”

“Next time,” Zack said with a smile and a jitter in his chest.

Cloud gave him a sad smile.

“It’s the thought that counts anyway, right,” Zack tried to alleviate the unhappiness he saw in Cloud. “You’ve got such a good heart, putting up with someone like me. I just want you to know that I”— _love you—think the world of you—_ “really valued our time together. Taking me out is more special than who gets to pay."

Cloud huffed. A smile tugged at him. "I guess."

"I’m gonna miss ya, buddy.” He turned the cringe into a smile and mentally kicked himself. What the fuck had _that_ been?

“I’ll miss you too.” Cloud gave a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been really fun. And I’m… really happy to see you on the mend.”

“Thanks, Cloud. You made this whole horror show bearable.”

Cloud didn’t hold eye contact. His smile looked tense. He held himself around his elbows.

They stood around. Zack felt like he should touch Cloud, give him a cuddle, and yet it also felt like the wrong thing to do. Like it might break him—or Cloud. He didn’t want to risk that. 

“You rode in, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“Cab.”

“Ah.”

Zack didn’t want to say goodbye, but it was getting late and colder by the moment. He should say goodbye. With a kiss. Definitely a kiss. But what if Cloud didn’t want that? Didn’t want him. Did it matter? They wouldn’t see each other anymore. Cloud wanted him to go and do his best. Zack wanted to do Cloud proud. He wanted to come back as someone who could be proud of himself so he could be worthy of Cloud one day. Would that day ever come?

Zack hugged himself tight. He’d never felt this tongue-tied in his life. He needed to say something but he also didn’t want to impose himself on Cloud any more than he already had over these 10 months. Cloud had said he’d be there until Zack left the hospital. Well, now he had left, and was leaving the city before the weekend rolled around. Cloud wanted him to do well, to push and get to where he wanted to be. Cloud wanted him gone. Could Zack blame him? No. Of course not. He was such a burden. But he… didn’t want to let go of Cloud. Not yet. Not ever… not yet. 

_“Can I—”_  
_“Do you—”_

They chuckled.

“We’ve got a knack for that, huh?” Zack said.

“Yeah. What did you want to say?” Cloud offered.

“Can I walk you to your bike?”

“Oh.” Cloud sounded relieved… or surprised? Zack couldn’t tell. “You really don’t have to.”

Zack shrugged. “I’d like to. I could use the walk. All that sitting down’s made me stiff, and the longer we stand in the cold the colder I get.” He flashed a grin.

“Oh… yeah… but… I parked like four blocks away.”

“So?” 

Cloud’s look said it all, really. He was made painfully aware of his limitations.

“Shouldn’t you still be using crutches?” Cloud added insult to injury.

Zack was definitely annoyed. “No," he snapped, despite trying not to. "See, I knew you’d ask that. I brought my walking stick—” he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and snapped it so it came undone. He felt like a geriatric brandishing the item.

“Oh, cool.”

“Yeah, see. I’m fine. If I get tired I’ve got this. I’m fine. Let’s go.” He tilted his head and folded the stick back up and tucked it away.

Cloud looked at Zack for a long moment. His stern expression started to look a little sad. The stain of emotion flicked away as Cloud gestured with his head. “Alright then. I’m this way.” 

They went down the road. Thoughts breezed through Zack’s head. This was the type of reception he’d get now that he was like this. That thought didn’t leave him, much like how the damp and cold air wouldn't leave but burrowed under his clothes and into his stump.

It didn't do him any good to get down on himself. He pushed the annoyed paranoia away and kept pace with Cloud, who neither hurried nor dawdled.

People still wandered the streets. The smell of rain grew pungent. Dark clouds had swallowed any visible stars and reflected some of the city lights that reached up to the heavens.

It felt surreal _to walk_ side by side with Cloud—out in the city—free. What if he hopped on Cloud’s bike and never came back to the base? Just snuggled with Cloud forever. Would Cloud want that? Would he be happy with himself? Cloud didn’t know where his happiness lay. Zack had known his own once but now it was… he was unsure. 

His arm brushed against Cloud as they went. God, Cloud was adorable. He only reached up to his shoulders. Zack wanted to pick him up. He imagined the sour expression Cloud would probably wear. He smiled. He frowned. What was wrong with him? Why was there a wall he couldn’t break through. The old him would have teased and ruffled Cloud’s hair. Would have kissed him half a dozen times by now. His knee locked out. He shifted his weight. 

Cloud's arms went around him. "Steady."

Zack stepped out of the hold. "I'm fine," he snapped. "I'm really okay," he added, far gentler. "I'm sorry for yelling.'

"I'll go slower."

"No. It's got nothing to do with that… sometimes if I don't concentrate the leg locks up,” Zack assured with a smile and got moving again. What if that happened on base? On tour? What if he managed to _somehow_ get deployed and it happened out in the field? His leg ached. The metal felt like it siphoned the freeze of the night air straight up into his thigh-bone.

Zack wavered in his steps and slowed down. This was the pits.

“Zack…”

“Hmm?”

“It’s supposed to rain tonight. You really don’t need to walk me over."

The idea of getting left behind and not eeking every nano-second out of his time with Cloud felt like a crying shame. “I want to walk with you. If it rains it rains. I’m not made of sugar,” Zack smiled and kept the pet _‘Sugar,’_ he wanted to call Cloud, to himself.

“Yeah, sorry. I know that. I just…”

“Relax,” he clapped Cloud on the back, which netted him a captivating shy smile. “I really don’t want you to worry about me. I can’t wait to see this bike of yours.”

“He’s nothing special.”

“He? Your bike’s a _he?”_

“Ah… oh… um… yeah…” Cloud looked away quickly.

A thought passed through Zack’s brain about Cloud riding guys. He chuckled. “That’s cool. It sounds like he’s special to you, so I’d really like to see him… and…” Zack’s pulse picked up as he tried _once more_ to show his interest, “I really want to see you on your bike.” 

“Oh… Really? Why’s that?”

Zack shrugged. Was he digging himself into a place where Cloud was going to be uncomfortable? Should he drop his attempts at flirting? "Well, I want to see if you look as cool as I think you do.” _Pathetic,_ he bemoaned as he grinned up at the cloudy night sky and at the tall buildings of the city which flanked their sides.

Cloud didn't look at him, but the flustered mortification was evident in the way he held himself: rigid shoulders, and that heavy, wordless huff. He also picked up the pace of their walk a little. 

Zack matched him but wondered if he'd gone too far?

“I think you’ll be disappointed," Cloud muttered.

“Nah. Never.”

Cloud hummed. They walked on in silence for a while, until, “So… you said you’re going to Fort Condor.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like? It’s pretty far away.”

“Yeah.” Zack’s mood plummeted with the knowledge that he’d overstepped if the change of topic meant anything. Knowing that he'd be leaving soon furthered his dismay. But he didn’t want to make Cloud worry about him. “It’s warmer there, so I guess that’s one good thing. It’s also a lot closer to my parents, which is good. The military was putting them up here at Junon barracks while I was going through the worst of it in hospital. But ever since May, they’ve been flying up to see me. It’s been expensive for them.”

Cloud looked at him. Sorrow sat in his eyes. “That’s good that they’ll be able to see you a lot more.”

“Yeah. Mom can stop worrying about me then,” he let out a sharp huff of laughter.

“What exactly will you be doing at Condor?”

“Admin. Training up in stuff.” He yawned, already bored and felt the tug of his soul as it got ready to leave his body. “What about you? What’re you going to get up to in the next little while?”

“Nothing much. I’ll be going back home for Christmas like I do every year.”

“Oh yeah. How’s that going to be for you with all your extended family around?”

Cloud sighed and shrugged. “Alright. Oh,” he said with a quick burst of excitement, “Sephiroth said he’ll come visit. He always… takes the attention away from me, so I think I’ll have a much better time of it. Plus, you should see how he gets with the Christmas crackers. It’s like a mission he takes full command over.” Cloud chuckled.

Zack plastered the smile on his face.

Cloud stopped laughing and looked at Zack. “After that… I don’t have any plans. Just keep working. I don’t know how I’ll feel about not having to go to the hospital all the time to deliver flowers. It’ll be weird—but I’m so glad you’re out of there. I’m glad you get to go back to living your life. And we both don’t need to smell the disinfectant anymore, and you don’t need your heparin shots, and no more Jensen glaring at me, and no more hospital food.” Cloud smiled softly.

Zack knew Cloud was trying to make him feel better. Probably also tried to divert attention from how happy he’d looked when he’d started talking about _General_ Sephiroth a moment before. Zack felt thin and drawn. His leg ached. He smiled over at Cloud. “Call it what you will, but I think I’m actually going to miss Francis’ cup puddings."

Cloud laughed. Zack tried to commit that sound to memory.

“What about your outpatient clinics? Will you be able to go to those? Will you get transferred or something?”

“Ah… yeah. Hey, I forgot to tell you—my psych actually talked to me about getting a service animal and that she’d happily support my application for one.”

“Oh really? That’s great. Will that be to help you with…”

“Yeah. Just to help me stay calm and stuff.” He smiled.

“Would you get a dog?”

“Are there any other kinds to get?”

“Yeah. Cats, ponies, pigs—”

“You’re shitting me!”

Cloud laughed. “No. Pigs are very smart. I’ve also heard of chocobos being used as service animals.” A cheeky grin adorned Cloud’s beautiful face.

Zack tittered. “Well, you’ve opened up my world to the possibilities, but I’d prefer a dog.”

“Like Digs?”

“Yeah. A beagle would be _perfect.”_

Zack held his smile in place despite the joy eroding with each step that he took closer to _the end._ They talked for a while longer as they went: conversations about non-consequential things, skirting around how this was goodbye. Cloud made no attempt to make plans for them going forward into the future together. Zack… Zack felt too paralyzed to make an offer, to suggest something, to broach the subject of his feelings. Cloud seemed content with how things were. He’d always talked about their futures in separate terms and had always deflected any interest Zack had shown him. Even now that he was out of the hospital.

Zack didn’t feel any braver with his leg attached.

The tall parking garage came into view eventually. Zack tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible, but his leg locked out a couple more times to his deep mortification. He was so tired. He kept the self-loathing grumbles inside and wondered how he’d ever amount to anything if he couldn’t even go for a fucking gentle stroll with the man he—

"We're here. You'll see that Fenrir's nothing special."

"Fenrir? You named your bike?" Zack almost burst with how cute that was.

"Ah… yeah." Cloud looked ahead of himself with tell-tale embarrassment. His pace picked up a fraction more as he led the way through the garage.

"Hey, it’s okay. When I was a kid I named my pushbike Katana. If I had an actual bike I’d name it too. Why'd you pick that name for it?"

"Fenrir is a _he._ ”

“Sorry. A _he._ Noted. So why the name?” 

“I… um… I like canines."

Zack smirked, and without a second thought leaned close to Cloud's ear as they walked and let out a low and deep, _"Woof."_ 1

Cloud stopped in his tracks. Zack did too. Cloud glanced up at Zack and stared. As did Zack with a grin.

Cloud burst with a laugh. Zack did too.

"Dogs are the best." Zack beamed. His heart thumped hard in his chest.

"They are. You are too." Cloud reached up and rubbed the side of Zack's head. Pure sunshine sat in his smile.

Zack leaned into the touch and tried at a serious face but couldn’t fight the strength of his grin. “You callin’ me a dog?” 

Cloud kept scratching Zack’s head. “Yeah.” He smirked.

Zack quickly leaned down and slowly licked Cloud’s cheek.

"Ew, gross," Cloud laughed, pushed Zack away with the heel of his palm, and wiped his face with his jacket's sleeve.

Zack howled with laughter. "Not that gross."

"A little bit gross," Cloud tittered and collected himself. "C'mon, my bike’s on the roof… but…" He hummed thoughtfully and the amusement faded from his eyes, "I don't think there's an elevator. Will you be okay on the stairs?"

That soured Zack's mood on so many levels. "I'll be fine. I’m not a baby.” It came out tinted in exasperation. He tried to cover it up with a smile. 

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered and they silently closed in on the stairwell and then up the stairs. 

The joy their previous conversation had elicited still sparked inside of Zack, but it rapidly fell away as he took one. Step. At. A. Time. He did his best to not look impacted or fatigued or like the whole thing was an ordeal and a strain. But it was. His busy day earlier, and the—to be frank—much too long walk to get here caused an ache in his thigh. He felt weary and exhausted. Unsteady, even. If he had been fresh he might have been able to try and take the stairs more gracefully. But he got stuck with taking one step up. He lifted his prosthetic onto the same step. He took the next step up. He pulled his prosthetic up. And so on. And so on. Like a fucking baby. From what Zack had seen before they’d entered the parking garage this looked like it had three tiers. And Cloud had parked on the _roof?_ Why!

Cloud was at Zack’s side the whole time. He took one step at a time with him. Zack felt so patronized. “So,” he said and tried to disguise his puffs as much as possible. “Where’s the name—Fenrir come from?” These fucking stairs! “Did you—have a dog, or something?”

“No. Not my own dog. You don’t know the mythology behind Fenrir?”

Zack shook his head. “Tell me.” He pushed out a smile and forced his attention back on the steps. He gripped the handrail tight and used it as leverage.

“Hmm… where to start. … There are all these gods and lesser gods and creatures born from gods.”

Zack made small sounds to indicate he was listening.

“Loki was a bit of a trickster god and while he had a lot of friends he also had a lot of enemies. He had three children, Jormungand, Hel, and Fenrir.”

“Ah.”

Cloud hummed. “Loki’s children were all tied up with the end of the world happening—Ragnarok. The other gods were worried and wanted to stop it from happening. They had already lost control of Jormungand and Hel so they tried to keep Fenrir under control. He was a wolf. The other gods raised Fenrir from when he was a pup and hoped they could tame him, but he got bigger and bigger and everyone was too scared to approach him. Everyone except for one.” 

“Who was that?”

Cloud chuckled and looked at Zack, bemused. “Tyr.”

“Tyr! You’re shitting me.”

Cloud laughed with more strength. “No. It’s true.”

“Well, I’ll be. What are the chances of that name coming up again.”

“You know the military’s naming convention, don’t you? 

“Yeah. Of course I do.” Zack rolled his eyes and grinned. Embarrassment shot up over Cloud seeing _yet again_ how dumb he was. “Feel free to remind me though,” he added tentatively. 

“All the horses and birds in the mounted division have names derived from various mythologies. Especially the non-standard colored birds. It’s to help keep track of them.”

Suddenly the weird names he’d never given a single thought to, made sense. Sort of. “Did you ever own any chocobos or something like that?” Zack stopped on the stairs to take a breather. “You know a whole bunch about them. Or is it just that you were interested?”

“I used to ride them competitively in obstacle courses.”

“Wow. That’s really cool.”

Cloud shrugged.

“Do you still ride now?” Zack resumed the upward struggle.

“No. I stopped all that so I could focus on my military career. We both know how that went.” He gave a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll be up the top soon. You’re doing really well.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Zack panted.

“I really mean it. You’ve only had your leg for about a month and you’re climbing stairs and living your life. It’s incredible.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gripped the metal handrail and pulled himself along as he took each grueling step after the other. He really wanted to be more personable and charming and woo Cloud, but not right now. Not when he fought this fucking beast. Why did the stairs not end? Why was his leg so lame? “Tell me some more stuff about the wolf.”

“Oh, yeah. So… Fenrir got really big and the gods all knew they couldn’t keep him in Asgard so they tried to bind him. They played a game with Fenrir, telling him that the chains they put on him were to test his strength. He kept breaking all the chains that they put on him and one day the gods got a special chain made in Svartalfheim by the dwarves.

“God, that’s a mouthful.”

Cloud chuckled. “They made Gleipnir, which was the strongest chain there ever was. It was made from cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the roots of mountains, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird.”

Zack tittered. "Made from weird shit, huh?"

“Yeah. It's symbolic. The chain was made from all the things that don't exist. And that means that it's futile to break the chain."

“Oh, I don’t know. I know women with big bushy beards.”

Cloud huffed with soft laughter. “This was written in the days before gender fluidity was a thing. Stay focused.”

Zack cackled. “Alright. Go on.” He really liked it when Cloud told him stories. It made the struggle of the stairs bearable. Why were they still climbing? Why didn’t it just _end?_

“Fenrir looked at Gleipnir and got really suspicious. He refused to have the chain put on him unless a god put their hand in his mouth as a sign of good faith. None of the gods wanted to do it because they didn’t want to lose a hand because they knew that Gleipnir would definitely bind Fenrir. Tyr stepped up and volunteered for the good of all the worlds. He put his hand in Fenrir’s maw and then when Fenrir struggled against the chains and couldn’t escape, he bit off Tyr’s hand and swallowed it.”

Zack sucked in air around his teeth. “Ouch.”

“And that’s basically it for that story anyway.”

“What happened to Fenrir?”

“He got chained up with a sword in his mouth and a river of drool came out.”

Zack laughed. “Geez, you give me this great story and then end it so casually.”

Cloud shrugged and smiled. “We’re here now anyway, so it’s time to finish the story.”

Zack pushed off the last stair with utter relief and followed Cloud out of the stairwell and onto the roof. The cold wind blew and drove the heat right out of Zack’s body. There weren’t too many vehicles up here. Zack spotted it almost instantly. “Oooo. Is that your bike over there?”

Cloud hummed. "Yeah."

“Awesome,” Zack breathed out with reverie. He left Cloud’s side and walked up to the bike and circled it. He went to touch the machine but pulled back. “Can I?” 

Cloud nodded and looked pleased.

Zack ran his fingers over the handlebars, the fuel tank, fenders, and inspected the engine. "You’re such a liar! This bike _is_ special. Look at it!" 

_“Him.”_

“Him. Sorry, Fenrir.” Zack chuckled and gave the bike a pat. Cloud was adorable with how serious and committed he was to his bike. “I really like the idea of you riding a big fuck-off wolf-bike and this definitely fits the bill. You customized him, didn’t you!”

Cloud looked pleased. “I bought him off someone two years ago. He was mostly like this when I got him, but I did tinker a little bit here and there. You know your bikes, huh?"

Zack nodded vigorously, relieved over _finally_ knowing something. "You remember my uncle Angeal? He called me on my birthday.”

Cloud nodded. 

“Yeah, well, he’s a mechanic out in the middle of nowhere. Whenever I came to visit he’d let me drive all kinds of things. I broke a lot so he made me fix ‘em, so I learned a lot.” He laughed. “Angeal owns a mechanic shop and he also owns a farm so anything went, really.” He thought back with fondness over days spent riding hard across his uncle's farm, tipping even the most untippable vehicles, and having to get himself out of shit—literal and figurative. It brought a smile to his face. “Oh… hey… didn’t you say you wanted to be a mechanic once?”

“I… yeah? I guess.”

“Maybe you could do something like that? If you’re not happy where you are right now I could talk to my uncle. He doesn't have anything to do with the military, so…”

Cloud scrunched up his nose. He shook his head. “I really appreciate it but I’m good for now. Thanks for the offer though.”

“Oh, yeah. Any time.” His good cheer fizzled somewhat.

“What about you?” Cloud came over and placed his hand on the seat of his bike. “Could you do something mechanical or be a driver? It might get you out into the field.”

“Oh… maybe.” Zack flashed a smile. Given his limitations and the hassle it was getting in and out of vehicles he seriously doubted it. Plus, he knew how the military worked. Once the officers made up their minds… there was no changing it. But maybe he could pull some strings? Maybe he could talk to someone? He had to try all options at least once, right?

They stood around. Cloud wiped the seat of his bike. Zack's heart raced. What was he doing? He hadn't confessed to Cloud yet. It wasn’t getting any easier the longer he waited. Maybe if he licked him again… 

Cloud looked up at the sky. The city lights illuminated the heavy gray clouds. “I think it’s going to rain very soon.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Cloud fiddled with his jacket pockets, produced gloves, and slipped them on. "Um… do you want me to give you a ride back to the barracks?"

Zack's palms felt sweaty. The idea of holding on to Cloud—pressed against his back—the wind in his hair and the thrill in his chest… He’d never be able to let go. "Nah… I'll catch a cab. Don't want to trouble you, plus… I don't know how my leg will hold up," he said. If he struggled to get in and out of cars how much harder would a bike be? He had no experience. Maybe if he’d had practice but… right now? He dreaded making a fool of himself. 

Cloud looked him over for a moment. It sent a tingle through Zack. 

“Are you sure?” Cloud asked.

A loud _No_ rang through Zack’s mind. “Yes,” left his mouth and his smile flourished. Maybe the dream to date Cloud was foolish. The man detested everything to do with the military. Maybe even detested him a little. Maybe he only stuck around out of politeness. Zack didn’t want to be a ball and chain.

Cloud continued to stand there. The occasional sound of a motor starting in the large multi-level garage rose up from below. Zack’s implant ached. He shifted his weight to his right leg.

“Um… Thanks for walking me up here.”

“My pleasure.”

They exchanged small smiles.

“I-ah… I’d better go. And you too. I don’t want you to get caught in the rain.” Cloud turned and fiddled with the carry-case mounted on the back, which contained his helmet.

Zack furiously kicked himself. A dense and hard knot sat in his chest. He felt sick. Was this it?

Cloud snapped on the helmet. Zack stepped back as Cloud mounted his bike. Was it ridiculous to feel jealous of an inanimate object? Zack wished Cloud would sit on him.

Cloud brought the engine to life with a rev.

 _Fuck_ , the way Cloud leaned into the curve of his bike and straddled the machine was undeniably hot. “Yep, I was right.”

“Huh?”

“One hundred percent cool. Glad I got to see it,” he grinned, and directed an internal kick at himself. Time ran out. The ache in his leg grew. His skin itched where all the scars webbed underneath his clothes. He wanted to say something _meaningful_ but… couldn’t. 

Meanwhile, Cloud looked away in his predictable, flustered fashion.

Zack loved everything about Cloud. He needed to say it, but his heart sat in his throat and acted like a bouncer and stopped him. Cloud wasn’t interested. Didn’t want to be entangled with the military more than his family already made him be. He had a perfectly handsome, capable, and _not_ -disabled possible love-interest in General Sephiroth. 

What could Zack ever offer him? _Nothing._ Cloud would reject him. But if they ended things like this, now, with nothing said, no words of love uttered, he’d always have hope that _maybe_ Cloud might have accepted him. He would never have to hear the words of polite but undeniable disgust. Was it wrong to hold on to dreams? Even as his _actual_ dream was about to ride away? A tragic, lingering love story was better than one that just ended. Wasn’t it?

Cloud revved the engine again and dislodged the kickstand. “You’re _sure_ you don’t want a ride?”

The lure to sit behind Cloud with his arms slung around that trim and itty-bitty waist as he nuzzled into the crook of Cloud’s neck almost got him to accept the invite. But where would it lead them? He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Cloud nodded. His “Okay,” was almost drowned out by the sputter of the engine. “Well, guess I’ll go.” He lowered the visor on his helmet.

Panic hit its apex. He couldn’t let go. “Can I have your number?” Zack blurted out. 

Cloud sat up and lifted the visor. His parted lips closed with the strength of his smile. “Yeah… sure. Of course. Um… can I put it in your phone?”

Zack took a breath to say something, but his mouth drifted shut. His predicament came into full focus. “I don’t have one right now. It’s kinda… a work in progress.” Zack frowned and clicked his tongue. “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath.

“Oh… um…” Cloud patted himself down and found what he was looking for: a pen. “I can write it down for you.”

Zack inflated with relief. “Yeah. Awesome. I—ah…” he patted himself down to try and locate something to give to Cloud to write on, but came up empty. “Shit,” he uttered with a grunt.

Cloud’s face fell. His brows shot up again. “Ah… your hand?” He held out his gloved hand.

Zack reached out. Cloud gently grasped him and wrote on his skin. The ink didn’t flow right. Cloud apologized and wet the tip of the pen with his tongue several times and attempted to write on Zack’s skin until the ink finally flowed. He went over the numbers several times, and engraved them into Zack’s skin, whilst he continued to apologize for being too rough.

With a laugh, Zack dismissed Cloud’s concerns. It was a little uncomfortable, but Zack could live with it. He liked the warmth which seeped through Cloud’s gloved hand, and was glad the man couldn’t feel his clammy palm.

The process of getting Cloud’s number tattooed onto his hand finished. It wasn’t the most perfect script Zack had ever seen but the numbers were readable. He read them aloud. Cloud correcting him on the 7’s which looked like 1’s and grabbed Zack’s hand again to try and define them. Zack giggled and then the process was finally over.

“Thanks, Cloud. Thanks for everything you’ve ever done for me. I’ll be in touch when I know what’s happening and where I’ll be and when I get a cell phone again.”

Cloud smiled. “Look after yourself. Keep seeing psychologists and going to groups and stuff until you get better, okay? Fight for what you want. And don’t let those bastards rob you of getting well and living your dreams.” Cloud’s eyes looked glassy.

Zack’s stomach sat in knots. He nodded. “Will do.”

Cloud’s bike still sputtered. Nothing else was forthcoming. 

“Alright then,” Cloud said.

“Alright. Look after yourself. Stay safe.” Zack curled his fingers against thin air.

“You too, Zack.” Cloud’s lips twitched. He opened his mouth. He swallowed something down. “Bye.” He smiled—strained. Pained.

“Bye,” Zack squeezed out past the lump in his throat. He waved as Cloud lowered his visor, flicked the kickstand, and revved the engine. He gave a small salute. Zack chuckled and returned the casual two-finger gesture and watched the man he adored ride away. It left a deep, sorrowful, hollow pang in his chest.

Zack looked at his hand. It ached that the number, and the bouquet of twizzlers and kisses he’d slipped in his back pocket, were the only things he had left of Cloud. He couldn’t believe how dumb he’d just been. How idiotic to not tell Cloud how he felt and to not confess that he wanted to stay in touch and have a relationship with him.

He wrinkled his nose with annoyance and sprung—as best he could—into action. He walked with purpose back the way he came. Which meant the descent of the fucking stairs. He took them down. One. Pathetic. Step. At. A. Time. Going down was easier than up, but the micro-compressor worked like a spring so he had to watch out that the leg didn’t kick out. He clutched the rail with all his strength—stopped several times to catch his breath. He felt a million years old. Why was this so hard? He’d been on his legs all day. He knew he should have taken it easier but… surely he should be able to manage this. If he couldn’t manage 12 hours on his feet how would he ever cope out on the trail? Zack huffed and dug deep with the thought that this was great training—for future ascends and infiltrations of enemy car parks. He huffed with derision.

Zack lost count of the stairs and the floors. They seemed to never end. His good knee gave out. He fell. He clutched the railing—caught himself. He stood and breathed hard. “Fuck.” He felt so tired. With distaste, he pulled out his retractable cane and used it to get a move on. It helped. He resented how much it _helped!_

He could hear the gentle prattle of rain outside of the parking garage and cursed all his unlucky stars. He hoped he would be able to make it back to the taxi ranks before the rain got any worse. 

When he got to the ground floor he considered folding the cane away, but he needed speed so he could get home before he got drenched, and get home quick enough so he might possibly catch Cloud with a call from the landline before he hit the hay. Zack really should have tried to memorize his landline number—he wanted to call Cloud. Maybe a confession would be easier to come by over the phone? There would only be one way to find out.

So he hurried. The cane would let him do that. Bitterly, he made his way out into the rain with his walking stick and hoofed it back the way he’d come. He kept on the lookout for taxis as he went, but luck seemed to fail him miserably today. His sure bet was to head back to the restaurant. He’d seen a taxi stand close-by there.

His thoughts dogged him. He fought against the fatigue in his body and the elements. His body slowed regardless of the effort he exerted. His movements dragged. He labored, despite the cane. He was exhausted. And then the heavens opened up properly. And he was drenched on top of everything else. Zack wondered who he’d pissed off to deserve this. He wondered if perhaps Tyr had contacted some weather gods to punish him for all his past indiscretions.

A wildly distraught horn blasted in the background. Zack turned around with his heart in his throat. The single headlight blinded him. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light and the rain. The bike, and its wonderful rider, pulled over beside Zack.

“Hop on,” Cloud yelled and shifted forward as he made room for Zack behind himself.

Zack’s heart leaped for joy—embarrassment flashed through. He fumbled with his stick and quickly folded and slipped it into his pocket next to the twizzler bouquet as he hurriedly hobbled over to the bike and his savor. He made to get on—but his leg! 

“Uh…”

“Try the other side,” Cloud shouted over the rain and the sound of the sputtering bike. Zack went around the bike to the left which was easier for him as he swung his right leg over the saddle. He sat down on the wet-but-still-warm spot where Cloud had sat moments before he had scooched up. 

“Ready?” Cloud yelled.

“No. I gotta fix my leg.” Zack hated this, but also kind of didn’t. He straddled Cloud’s bike _and_ Cloud in a roundabout way. He reached down and pulled his prosthetic up onto the bike where he tried to find a spot to tuck it in against the metallic body. He fumbled with his frozen fingers and blinked against the rain that cascaded over his eyes. 

Cloud reached down and helped give Zack’s leg an extra hard push. “Good?” he yelled.

“Good,” Zack replied, wrapped his right arm around Cloud's tiny waist and held his left leg with his other, just to be on the safe side. He held onto Cloud so very tight to keep himself safe and—predominantly—to stay close to Cloud. It felt as good as he’d imagined.

Cloud gunned the engine. “Junon Barracks, right?” 

“Yeah.”

Cloud nodded, turned to the front, and with a roar, they shot off. Zack jerked with surprise, forgot all about his left leg, and held on to Cloud for dear life and utter delight. The rain and wind whipped and needled into him. Zack hid his face behind Cloud’s back and curled against his beautiful, kind, amazing, beloved salvation. 

Cloud wove through traffic and along roads. Exhilaration throbbed through Zack’s very being. He felt alive with excitement and adrenaline. He _missed_ that feeling so much. He felt in complete awe and in complete love with Cloud: how cool he was, and warm, and perfect. “I love you,” Zack shouted.

“Won’t be long,” Cloud shouted back with a muffled sound through the helmet.

Zack’s heart raced. He leaned heavily against Cloud. Pressed his cheek into the wet leather jacket. He’d said it. Cloud hadn’t heard. Of course he wouldn’t be able to hear. But what if he had and just pretended… Zack tried something else with a shout, “You’re my knight.”

“Yeah. I’m alright,” Cloud responded.

Zack chuckled with relief and let it be. He just concentrated on keeping all of himself on the bike and as close to Cloud as possible. He squeezed Cloud hard every time they stopped at a red traffic light. Cloud responded by taking his hand off the handlebar and placed it on Zack’s arm, which he squeezed and rubbed. The small touches kept Zack warm even as the night grew colder by the moment.

The rain still pelted by the time Cloud slowed and cruised around the road on the outer perimeter of Junon Barracks. 

“Go around the back.” Zack pointed with an obvious tremble as he froze.

Cloud got them around the corner and as close as possible to the barracks where he pulled up.

Zack unclamped his hands from Cloud’s waist and pushed his prosthetic out of its wedged-in position. He felt the solid ground, planted the foot, and swung his right leg off the bike. He wobbled as he stood on his feet again. 

Cloud reached out and steadied Zack with a handhold. “Careful. There you go.” Cloud lifted his visor and smiled.

“Th-thanks.” Zack’s teeth chattered terribly. He couldn’t see clearly with the amount of water that poured down his face. His body felt stiff and numb. His clothes were soaked, even under his jacket. “Th-th-thanks s-so much for the ri-ride,” he managed to get out.

Cloud nodded toward the gates. “Get inside before you catch hypothermia. I don’t want you back in the hospital after you’ve only been out for a week.”

Zack chuckled—or at least that had been the intention behind the clicking sound that left his throat. He nodded. He wanted to linger—wanted to touch Cloud—kiss him. Hug him. “Thanks, C-c-cloud. I’ll c-c-call you.”

Cloud nodded and wiped at his eyes. Zack tucked his hands under his armpits, turned with a hop, and as quickly as possible went into the barracks. When he passed the boom gates and looked back he saw Cloud wave at him. He waved back and the man of his dreams rode off.

Zack didn’t linger. He got himself back into his much-warmer lodgings as fast as possible.

It was indeed _much_ warmer inside. He pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor as he hurried to the bathroom. He tracked mud and left puddles but didn’t care. Once in the bathroom, he swore up and down as he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. He froze. He shivered. His fingers were ice blocks and not up for nimble tasks. He did free himself of his shirt though and threw it to the tiled floor before he started to undo his belt buckle and slipped down his soaked pants and underwear. Something clattered to the floor—his cane. Zack quickly checked the pockets. His heart sank. The twizzler bouquet was gone—must have fallen out on the ride. He shuffled over to the toilet, sat on the lid, and worked the wet garments down to his knees.

He grumbled the whole time about how everything was hard. Taking off shoes was hard—at least he only had to do one shoe, which he pulled off with ease and flung out the doorway. His soaked sock followed. Zack pulled his wet clothes down and freed his good leg. He then hoisted his dead-weight leg onto his knee and clicked off the prosthesis. Instead of working the wet pants and wet shoe off the prosthetic he left them on and put the leg on the floor. At least that was handy. He'd deal with it all later. Right now he was an icicle and needed to warm up. 

His foot was wet and the tiles slippery so Zack carefully hopped over to the shower, with one hand skirting along the vanity for support. And with his other, he wiped the hair and water out of his face. He then grabbed onto the mounted support bar in the shower stall and turned the water on. The taps and plumbing were old. They creaked and groaned as water gushed through and splattered out of the showerhead. The water froze. Zack was so cold that it didn't make a difference to him. In fact, the icy water felt fractionally warmer on his skin. So when the actual warm water decided to mix in it felt like 10,000 searing needles against his skin. 

He hissed and rubbed himself with one hand, while he held onto the railing with the other. He stuck his head under the spray and enjoyed the hot water’s relief as it slowly warmed him from the outside in.

He stood there and thought about what an incredible evening he'd had with Cloud. Minor hiccups aside, it had been an awesome night. They'd laughed. They'd joked. Zack couldn't forget the hug Cloud had given him when they'd met at the restaurant. That had been the most enthusiastic hug he thought he'd ever gotten from Cloud. He must have really missed him. Zack smiled. The feeling had been so mutual. He wouldn't let another 24 hours pass before he got in touch with Cloud. He had his number. It felt like a gift from the gods. Zack grinned and looked down at— _“What?”_ he yelped and let go of the handrail like it burned. He wobbled—almost fell. He grabbed the railing. The number on his hand! It was blurred and smudged! 

Frantic, without even turning off the shower, he hopped out and maddeningly scrambled to the towel rack to get himself dry—get his hand dry! He needed to save the horribly smudged numbers! He slipped. He fell. He screamed in blind agony as he made contact with the hard floor. Sharp pain shot, burned, and stabbed straight up his leg and hip, and spine. His stomach turned. He wretched and the content of his stomach hurled onto the tiled floor.

Zack jerked and shuddered and flung his eyes open. His brain struggled to comprehend the angle he was at—the room sat askew and the wall was against his face—no. It was the floor? He was on the floor. His cheek and hand pressed against warm wetness. A wave of nausea turned his stomach and made him gag. He pushed off the floor and got his knee under him like he'd been taught. Pain radiated up from his stump. His knee hurt, his ankle pulsed, his elbows throbbed. Warm wet sick slid down his cheek. Zack pushed back and sat his bare ass down on the cold floor. He gulped down the fresh wave of sick that churned his stomach. His head spun. His leg—the whole left side of his body ached.

He lifted his hand and rubbed his forehead. He reached for his aching stump—"Fuck!" he barked in a hushed tone. The number! He pushed back onto his knee and his hands and crawled—hopped—shuffled—whatever it should be called—over to the towel rack. He tugged his towel free and gently dabbed at his hand. _“Fucking fuck,”_ he shouted. The numbers somehow looked even _worse._ He smashed his fist against the tiled wall. “Goddammit! Fuck!”

Zack stayed on the cold tile floor and poured out his pain, grief, and despair with howling sobs. He bundled all of his rage and lost hope into screams until his throat felt hoarse. He hated his life. Hated himself. The hot tears only went a little way in washing the sick off his cheek and then they stopped and everything on an emotional level felt numb inside of him. Though his body still _screamed_ at him. 

He couldn’t believe he’d lost Cloud’s number—lost Cloud. Possibly _seriously_ injured himself! Fear had simmered away but now rushed up like an explosion. What if something had shattered inside when he fell? He tentatively touched his leg—he winced and grit his teeth. He couldn’t see blood but _excruciating_ pain and a hectic throb flared in the very core of his leg.

He needed to get it looked at. He knew a medical team was always on standby at the med clinic in the barracks. But the _humiliation_ of it all! Maybe he could wait until morning? Maybe things would get better? Maybe he could avoid an emergency ride to the hospital? The fucking hospital he'd just gotten out of! But if he was back there maybe he could see Cloud again?

Zack clutched his middle and doubled over with pain. Pain over having lost Cloud and the number. He clutched his stupid hand. Everything was his own fault. If he'd asked Cloud out! If he hadn't been such a chicken! If he had just told Cloud everything he felt from day one all this wouldn't have happened right now. Or even if it had, it wouldn’t have spelled the end of what he really wanted.

He screamed and slammed his clenched fist against the wall once more. His fist ached. He felt outraged but also better.

He breathed—the acrid smell of bile in the room turned his stomach. He breathed through his mouth, decided to quit his pity-party, and made his way to the vanity, which he used to hoist himself up off the floor.

His arms trembled as he held himself upright. His fingers splayed across the vanity's laminate finish. He maneuvered himself in front of the sink and the small mirror. Even in the dingy light he looked paler than normal. Sick caked his skin. He grimaced and began to wash his face clean of vomit and tears.

His stomach churned from the incessant radiating pain which shot up from his leg at a maddening pace. He focused on getting himself _safely_ to the shower which he turned off, and then took himself out to the main living area with small hops as he braced against the wall for support. He located his crutches, fetched them, and got himself over to the small armchair.

Zack sat down and examined his hand. The numbers were illegible. They were more like a splotch of ink than anything decipherable. He clutched his head. Somehow the pain in his chest felt worse than the scream from his leg. He'd need to get it seen to. In the morning. Maybe he could save face until then. But Cloud’s number! Anger sparked at his own stupidity. But before he let despair overcome him he remembered that he had another avenue to get what he needed. He'd call Tifa in the morning. _Correction,_ he'd call _Aerith_ in the morning, to get Tifa's number, to get Cloud's number. 

He grimaced but tried to turn it into a smile. Not everything was lost. He just hoped his leg wasn’t completely fucked up. He called security to get him an ice pack or five and then made his way over to the bedroom to throw on some clothes.

How had a pretty awesome day turned into an absolute disaster in a matter of moments?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Zack woofing at Cloud is inspired by Alassa’s wonderful [little comic](https://twitter.com/artofalassa/status/1339373117681135617/photo/1). I saw it and instantly thought of the car park scene. Thank you for letting me incorporate the general gist of it into my story, Alassa 😭❤️Back
> 
> Songs for this chapter -  
> [ Say You Love Me by Jessie Ware](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAMM8JVbr8g) \- this song is for what's going on with Cloud in this chapter.  
> [ Still I Fly by Spencer Lee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50C7Sf0hcJQ) \- Not so much a chapter song as a thematic song for Zack. But I’ll slip it into this chapter as Zack’s getting his bearings a bit.  
>   
>   
> I am sure there is disappointment that these two idiots still haven't kissed. Give Zack some time to sort his shit out and he'll put an end to the slow burn. Guaranteed 👌
> 
> And as for the ending of this chapter… *cackles from up high in her ivory tower*
> 
> I hope you all have a good day. Weekly posting will commence in March, as indicated on the general fic summary as I'm very close to finishing up all my edits and reworkings. 🙏 🎉
> 
> Your comments, feedback, _screams_ , and kudos bring me oh-so-much joy. A big THANK YOU to all of you for reading and enjoying and for suffering long with me 💖
> 
>  **//edit:** I've received some asks over on my Tumblr and one thing led to another and I ended up writing a brief 'what if this chapter ended differently' scenario. What if Cloud took Zack home with him instead of back to the barracks? You can read it [HERE](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/post/643425485110624256/i-really-was-hopeful-that-this-was-where-things)


	18. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zack deals with the fallout of his fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m excited to announce that there are _no_ content warnings for this chapter. How exciting is that? 😆 * _hears the shouts of ‘boo, how booooriiiing’_ * 😋
> 
> For those who don't follow me on socials or may have missed it, I drew a cover image for this story. I've uploaded it to chapter 1 if you'd like to take a look. It’s also on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/creampudding_/status/1363443160450428930) and [Tumblr](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/post/643726551057334272/kintsukuroi-cover).
> 
> That is all.

Zack sat in the barracks rudimentary medical clinic on an examination table. His legs dangled and he waited for the doctor to return. He thought he was fine. He’d applied his first aid knowledge and had used the R.I.C.E method in a maybe vain hope that his stump would look and feel okay in the morning. When he'd gone to put his prosthetic on at the crack of dawn he'd know that he was in serious trouble. It had _hurt_ , to put it mildly. So he’d seen himself to the clinic. He wasn’t so stupid to completely ignore a potential injury. He needed to get better, not worse. And as he sat there, with his stump on full display—as he didn't wear the compression sock, so the doctor could examine him—the now all-too-familiar phantom pain pulsed uncomfortably down his left leg. His toes felt cramped. He tried to relax the muscles which his brain still associated with those parts of himself. Some days it worked, some days it didn't. Today seemed to be one of the harder days.

When the doctor returned she asked him questions related to pain, symptoms, discomforts. Zack answered. He mostly looked at his hand though. The massacre of the lost phone number still evident there with its black smudged streaks. It somehow looked worse in the garish fluorescent light of the clinic. He tried to decipher the marks—tried to remember the sequence of numbers. Why hadn’t he memorized them when Cloud had written them down? 

He wanted to speak to Cloud, yet… at the same time… he looked at himself. Looked at where he was and what had happened to him. He was such a loser. Who'd ever want a man who couldn't even get out of the fucking shower without hurting himself? He couldn't believe he fell and had hurt himself so badly. What if he had to go back into hospital?

He might possibly see Cloud again but… No. Zack grimaced with self-directed disdain. He didn't want to inflict that on Cloud. Didn't want to inflict himself on Cloud. Cloud deserved to be happy. He deserved to not worry about a pathetic loser like Zack. 

He looked at his swollen stump and felt the doctor’s cold hands on him. The stump was a constant reminder of what he had lost and become. A reminder of how no one would or _should_ want to be around him. Not Cloud. Not others. Zack didn’t even want to be around himself.

So while he sat there he made the decision that he’d call Cloud later. If he ever hoped for a chance with Cloud he needed to be better. First, he’d have to get himself into a respectable-enough position with his body. He’d have to see what the verdict would be and heal up and… grow another fucking leg. He’d get Cloud’s number from Aerith, who’d probably get it from Tifa. He could do that any old day of the week. He hadn’t entirely lost contact. There was no rush. He had time to get himself in tip-top condition. He’d get back to Cloud soon. He would. Really.

Zack’s doctor gave her verdict: his leg was okay, but they’d still send him for X-rays down the hall.

His leg and implant were indeed okay. Just bruised and sore and he was advised to stay off his prosthetic for a week, which sucked. 

Walking around with crutches sucked and he joked as hard as he could with everyone who set eyes on him. He probably never felt more like an invalid as over those long days. It was made worse by the chain reaction his fall set off. There was an inquiry. People came to visit and spoke with him. General Sephiroth came on the second day after the incident and Zack was just about blown away to see him again. Was it pleasant? No. Did Zack think about asking Sephiroth for Cloud’s number? Yes. Did it actually happen? Of course not.

“What exactly happened? Please be specific.” The General stood in Zack’s shabby apartment, outside of the bathroom.

“It was probably twenty-two hundred and I went and had a shower. I came back out and I fell.” It had been humiliating enough of a situation without the need to retell it to a General. The fact that he had to retell it to _Sephiroth…_ unbelievably horrible.

“How did it happen?”

“I just fell. I was”—he didn’t want to give the actual reason. He preferred not to mention Cloud at all and felt weirdly defensive of the whole situation—“grabbing my towel and just slipped.”

“Were there adequate handrails? Non-slip mats? What—” The General breathed out decisively. “It may be easier if I take a look at the bathroom. I came here expressly so I could examine the conditions and not miss anything.”

Zack swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure.” A part of him couldn't help but wonder if the General was here so he could catch up with Cloud later. Why else would anyone bother to come check on a cripple who had a fall?

The tall, graceful, and imposing man went and examined the bathroom. He took notes. Took photographs. Zack felt like his bathroom was under investigation for murder. He gave the General space but listened to the deep-in-though murmurs and watched him scribble things down. Zack felt so shabby on his crutches. His hair itched. How long would it take to grow it out to any significant length?

The General came back. “I’ve taken a look around and documented the area. Would you tell me your experience of the facilities and your station here at Junon Barracks? Complete transparency would be advisable.”

Zack swore he’d begin to sweat bullets. If he’d be completely honest where would that land him? Medically retired, that’s where. “Everything’s been really great. I get up when I’m supposed to and do my duties. The staff here—”

“I want to hear an honest assessment, Sergeant. If these quarters aren’t adequate something must be done.”

“It’s fine.” Zack smiled.

The General's stare hardened. “I have noted several WHS concerns. There is a leak over by the window, not enough adequate lighting, and poor ventilation. Would you really describe these things as adequate?”

“Ah… well… not… entirely?”

“An _honest_ evaluation, please. And let us go sit down.” He gestured over to the armchair and tattered lounge.

Zack went over and felt better for getting the weight off his leg and the strain off his arms. When Sephiroth sat he somehow felt slightly _less_ intimidating. But only _slightly._ Zack laid it all out to the General then; his abysmal living conditions and the fact that he’d not kept up with any of his rehabilitation because of work. He didn't want to complain but… the General had asked. He didn’t know what sort of a grave he dug for himself. He hoped it would at least be comfortable.

The General listened and made notes and when Zack was all finished, said, “Would you like to add any further statements in regards to this most unfortunate event?”

Zack shook his head.

“Very well then.” Sephiroth breathed out heavily. “I am relieved to hear that you came out of it relatively unscathed. I would strongly recommend you look after yourself, if not for your own sake then at least for the sake of the people who care for you.” He gave Zack a hard stare and made to get up. 

“General.”

“Hm?” He paused mid-lift off the armchair and looked at Zack.

Zack’s mind raced. The General had meant Cloud. Right? He talked about him. Had Cloud said something to him? Did General Sephiroth know something? Did Cloud worry about him? Did he know about the news of what had happened to him? Should he ask General Sephiroth for Cloud’s number? “How long have you had long hair for?”

General Sephiroth rose the rest of the way and looked over his shoulder briefly before he returned his attention onto Zack. “I fail to see the relevance.”

“No relevance. Apologies, General.” Zack grabbed his crutches—fumbled— _fuck!—_ he rose to his feet and stood as straight as he could while he leaned forward on the crutches. He saluted—he still held the crutch. _Fuck!_ What was he doing? He dropped the crutch. It clattered to the floor. Zack looked at it only briefly and then fixed his eyes on the General and saluted properly. His cheeks burned. He felt like he shook like a leaf on his one leg and one crutch. This was so embarrassing. 

Steely eyes beheld Zack with a cool, aloof expression. The General stepped closer, bent down—so slowly—and picked up the crutch. He rose like a formidable and glorious serpent to his full height and stepped up next to Zack, who still held his salute. The General’s hair brushed past Zack’s nose as he leaned in, past Zack to place the crutch against the lounge.

Zack stood frozen. He caught a hint of something pleasant smelling—vanilla and… musk. Sephiroth smelled _really_ good. Did he _always_ smell like that? Was _that_ what Cloud—Zack held the growl at bay. 

The General stood up straight again and returned Zack’s salute. “As you were.”

Zack could only wish and watched the other man saunter out of his apartment, with his long silver tresses swaying behind him like an elegant mane as he went.

“General,” Zack burst. He froze. His mind raced. What was he doing?

Slowly, General Sephiroth turned around. “Yes?”

“Please tell Cloud…” Tell him what? That he loved him? That he’d call soon? No. That was completely pathetic and inappropriate. Sending a message through _General_ Sephiroth would be… it would be… _Insulting._ He could do this himself. He didn’t need to enlist the General’s help on such a personal matter.

“What would you like me to pass on?”

Give the General an excuse to see Cloud? Give the man an opportunity to take Cloud out for dinner so they could discuss _him?_ No. Zack ground his teeth but dropped his shoulders to relax. “Nothing. Please don’t tell him I hurt myself. I don’t want him to worry about me.”

There was no reaction. General Sephiroth gave a small nod and a deep, yet quiet, “Very well.” and he finally left.

Zack stared after him and wondered where the General was off to now. To write a report? Probably. But what if… he went to see… _Cloud?_ To woo him? Zack gulped and made to bolt—he stopped and grabbed his other crutch and hopped to his bedroom to find his suitcase. He needed to call Aerith. Right _now._ Get Tifa’s number. Get Cloud’s number.

He found his suitcase, flung it open, and pulled things out and aside as he searched for his address book. He had one. Each year he got a new one. His mom’s initiative, since he tended to lose things. He’d had it in the hospital. He looked through all the zipped compartments of the suitcase. He froze as he saw the framed photograph of himself and Cloud. He pulled it out. He hugged it to his chest. He wished for Cloud’s warm body. He replaced the framed photo—face down—and kept looking through his suitcase—paying absolutely no attention to anything in there aside for the small black book he needed.

He went through everything. He’d pulled everything out and his room was a mess, but he’d come up absolutely empty. He lay sprawled on the floor, his eyes shielded in the crook of his arm. He’d lost his address book. Lost his contacts. He groaned. He couldn’t call Cloud. Why did he never remember to remember phone numbers? He dropped his arm away and stared up at the ceiling. “Sorry, Cloud,” he puffed. “Guess I’ll have to wait for Aerith to call me first.” With a grunt he got back up, packed his suitcase and all the sweet and painful memories it held inside. He pushed the suitcase under his bed and tried to find something productive to do, to take his mind off just about everything.

###### 

The day after the General’s visit Zack got moved off base into a service apartment more suitable to his needs and in closer range to the services he’d previously accessed through the hospital’s outpatient clinics. He was informed he’d stay in the city until adequate provisions could be made for him at Fort Condor—possibly by the new year—and a strong recommendation was made that Zack should focus on his recovery in full. 

So that’s how Zack ended up in a rather nice apartment, away from prying eyes. General Sephiroth had _really_ come through for him. Above and _beyond_ what he’d expected. Was it because of Cloud? Or was it because of who the General was? Zack thought he could finally see what Cloud possibly saw in him. Though that thought also turned him off again.

The move made him even busier because now he needed to meet the demands of his job _and_ the demands of his personal recovery. Zack was actually relieved to be back in attendance of his groups though. He was happy to speak with Sofia, his psychologist about the worries he had which work brought up: management of his PTSD, mostly. Over the almost two week period since his hospital discharge he’d been alright, but he noted how the cadets' rifle training on base was one thing that got him agitated and nervous when he could hear them at a close distance.

Zack received the support he needed from his psychologist. Practical and emotional. The emotional support promised to come in a four-legged package. That news had Zack completely over the moon.

He made sure to create time in his schedule to visit the disabilities support services, specifically the animal division. He sat with staff and had an interview where they assessed his needs and then he had the time of his life as he got to meet all the dogs the staff thought would be most suitable. There were all kinds of breeds but Zack’s heart absolutely stopped when he saw a little three-legged beagle. He knew it was meant to be and got to take her home after the appropriate paperwork had been filled out.

Having someone to come home to and care for improved Zack’s mood tremendously. The stuff he had to do at work didn’t bother him so much anymore. Or at least he wasn’t left stressing out. Rather, he poured his energy into looking after his little Miss. He also poured his efforts into getting over himself. He’d been told that PTSD could lead to more mental health issues, like agoraphobia, if he neglected to look after himself properly. Zack really didn’t need more problems in his life so he pushed himself hard to get beyond the limitations of his body and his mind. He socialized more. Attended all of the mess hall meals. Stopped the excuses he found himself spin in his head, and when he got lost in the moment with the new friends he made he felt really good. But something was off and he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Zack’s life definitely improved: he adjusted to his leg and his new way of doing things, his companion animal provided endless comfort, and the niceness of his apartment made him feel better all around. But he still felt a hole in the bottom of his heart where all the joy and happiness seemed to leak out.

He didn't know what exactly it was. Yes, he missed Cloud. Felt guilty about not contacting him—but he needed to get better before he could see Cloud again so that staved off the worst of the unhappy thoughts regarding that aspect of his life. The general state of his body was another point of unhappiness for him, but again, with time he figured he might get himself sort of right again? Even with that hope he still felt empty. His apartment felt empty. His life empty. So he decided to unpack his suitcase. He'd put it off as he hadn't thought there to be any point to it since he'd move to Fort Condor, but now that he was slated to stay put in Neo Midgar for another month it kind of felt okay—and almost a necessity to unpack properly.

He kind of didn't want to because of the things inside his suitcase, but he also kind of wanted to because of the things inside his suitcase. They'd bring him as much comfort as discomfort so… 

He opened his suitcase and far more carefully than last time pulled out all the things he still had stashed away inside. 

He’d been wrong. So wrong. There was no comfort. There was only heartbreak as he took out the dried and pressed flower crown Cloud had made him for his birthday. He picked up some of the soft toy dogs and juggled them, but that too created a well of pain in his chest. The sight of the photograph Kunsel had taken of him and Cloud—the photograph he'd asked Cloud to frame—crushed him all over again. Back then Zack couldn't have possibly imagined how deep the wellspring of his affection ran for Cloud. The moment he'd laid eyes on Cloud he’d thought of him as pretty cute. Now when he looked at Cloud he thought of him as handsome and irresistible. He thought of Cloud as someone he could trust. Someone who got him and understood him. Someone he didn't have to be afraid in front of—if he ever grew a pair. Zack wondered where the old him had gone. He'd lost himself somewhere in the hospital. Maybe when they'd cut off his leg? But he hated to think that all he was and had been came down to his leg. That was so dumb. 

He rubbed his stump. Disgust curled his lip. This was his life now. He hated how it defined him. How he defined himself. He looked at the photograph again. Cloud… Cloud didn't think of him as a cripple, did he? He remembered all the wary looks Cloud had given him. The long stares at the void where his leg should be. Zack stared at the void as well. Probably more than anyone else. 

He shook his head. Freed himself from those thoughts. No matter what Cloud actually thought, the point was and had always been that Zack felt like Cloud was someone safe to be himself around. He'd felt it so acutely in the early days of his hospitalization. Cloud still felt safe and like a garrison and… a home… of sorts. His presence was a familiar comfort. Zack had lost himself but he'd found a home. And that was weird and yet also thrilled him.

He needed to become better so he could build a life that he wanted. A life with Cloud in it—if Cloud would ever want him.

He looked at the photograph once more. A comfortable awkwardness sat there reflected back at him. He loved that photo. It had been taken at a point in time _before_ Cloud had known everything that Zack had held inside. The smile he wore in the photograph was still the same one that Zack had seen in more recent times. It's like nothing had changed. Cloud's perception hadn't changed. He still directed that same smile at him, but it somehow felt even brighter.

Maybe Cloud truly didn't care about all the bad and wrong things that happened to him. Maybe Cloud could love him the way he was. That thought irked him though. _The way he was._ He wanted to be better. For himself and for Cloud. No matter what Cloud thought of him. Ultimately, what he thought of himself mattered most. ANd for him to feel good about himself he needed to get back to where he’d been and how he’d been. As close to it as possible anyway. 

He took the photograph and put it on his bedroom dresser. He unpacked a lot of other things too and placed them around his apartment. Some in obvious places, some hidden away. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at the letters, much to his chagrin. He felt like a coward. Like he let people down. So he _definitely_ needed to hide those things. And when he looked around his apartment, with his toy dogs peppered around the place, the get-well cards on display, the various knick-knacks his squad had given him, and most of all the things Cloud had given him, he actually _did_ feel comforted. His apartment no longer radiated emptiness. But that didn't seem to stop the heavy boulder which rolled over his heart. 

The burden of his unhappiness grew a little denser each week, each day, each hour. Cloud stayed in the back of his mind, sometimes willfully so, other times unavoidably as he had to deal with his life as it was. He had meetings to attend. Meetings with his bosses. Meetings with people he didn’t feel had anything to do with him. Meetings about progress developments at Fort Condor. Meetings with his medical team and rehabilitation assessors. Meetings with interviewers, TV networks, journalists. Meetings with—his heart sank and his sighs sat deep. Zack lost sight of hope that he could ever get what he wanted for himself. The things he truly wanted were gone. He still didn’t know what had happened to his leg—where it had been moved to—whether it had been destroyed or sat in a lab somewhere for someone to experiment on. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t ever get it back, or the range of motion he’d once had.

And at quiet times… or times where the hands on the clocks seemed to move backward instead of forward—like when he was stuck in _yet another meeting—_ he’d sometimes stare out a window with a glazed look in his eyes as he watched the new cadets train outside in the sunshine, or rain. Many thoughts passed through his head. Many feelings. Feelings of envy and that he was punished and destined to suffer. His thoughts naturally also turned to Cloud, which always stirred up guilt. He felt so bad. He missed Cloud so much. He wasn’t ready. He needed to get back as much of himself as he could, so he could be all he could be for Cloud. Sometimes he thought he could still make out numbers on his hand. Some days he thought he could feel the touch of a pen—like a phantom pain. Not that it would ever make any difference even if he could figure out the right number to call. Zack wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t his best self, yet.

The throb and phantom pain up and down his leg served as a stark reminder of that fact. The discomfort grew more pronounced as December arrived and winter settled in.

This season was dismal. He felt sensations he’d never experienced before. Mornings, when he headed to the barracks, were perhaps some of the worst for feeling stiff and useless. He saw his mood feed back into his output at work while at the gym through lackluster performance. While he thought he _had_ made progress it all seemed to come undone as the cold permeated the building structures. He just felt heavy, clumsy, drained, and tired. Things that had been easy in the past were challenging. He loved a challenge but not like this. He didn’t like challenges which were only there because he’d fucked up. Challenges he needed to overcome to get back to _normal life_. He’d always strived to exceed. Now he struggled to maintain the status quo. God… he hated it all so much. And not for the first, or last time, Zack wondered how he’d ever be of use to anyone with his limited range of motion and abilities. Even Scarlet scowled at him and smacked him while she berated him whenever he limped in her presence.

At the end of a particular rough day, at the end of an even rougher week, he sank into his couch in his far-warmer apartment. Bagel sat at his side. Her tail wagged and she pressed her little head onto his lap. He patted her with one hand and massaged his stump where it attached to his prosthetic with his other hand. He still couldn’t get over how his leg just _ended_.

He told himself it could have been a lot worse. He told himself to stop being a pathetic baby. What would all his squad—dead and alive—say if they knew? Barret had bounced back from his amputation. But Zack also couldn’t help but curl his lip. The loss of a leg was far worse than the loss of an arm. If given a chance to swap, he definitely would. But as he couldn’t he tried to be grateful for what he still had. At least he could stand. At least he didn’t have to be confined to a wheelchair. 

Bagel moved and put her paws on his lap. She looked up at him.

“I know, precious girl. I need to suck it up. My squad would rip me a new one if they saw me like this.” He blinked back the sting of tears and stopped the piss-poor excuse of a massage on his limb. “Tell me, my beautiful little lady, what have you been up to today? You look like you enjoyed the chew toys I got ya.” He saw the mess of chewed things in the corner of the living space where Bagel’s bed sat.

She blinked at him. Serenity radiated from her soulful eyes.

“Me? Nothing much. That’s the problem, yanno? I feel like I could do with a run.” He’d always gotten that inside stuff to not worry him anymore with a good session at the gym or a good fu—“You want me to take you for a walk?” 

Her head perked up.

“I’mma take you for a walk.” The cold didn’t seem so bad when he had a purpose. “C’mon. I’ll get changed, and put on the other leg and we’ll go.” He rose with a suppressed grunt. The thought of wearing his bladed attachment excited him. He enjoyed the spring in his step it created. It was dark out enough for him to not feel weird to go out with it on. “You think I could wear the blade all the time?" He went toward his bedroom, Bagel close behind. “But if I wear it all the time it’s gonna be obvious. But I’d look badass, right?” He looked back and down at her. 

She wagged her tail. Zack shrugged—he jumped. The doorbell rang. Zack wondered who that could be and veered toward it. He looked through the peephole—“Ahh!” Quickly, he unlocked and pulled the door wide open. “Kunsel!”

Kunsel stood there with a big smile. “Hey, Zack!”

Zack pulled him in and into a hug, even as he shut the door again.

“What’re you doing here?”

“We’re going out for dinner, remember?”

“Oh shit… are we?” Zack pushed Kunsel away but still held him by his arms.

Kunsel chuckled and hummed. “We talked about this two nights ago.”

“Oh shit, man, I’m so sorry.” He looked Kunsel up and down: he wore a thick gray overcoat and dress pants. His usually tousled hair was slicked back; he’d put in effort. Zack slapped his forehead. “It totally slipped my mind.”

“No sweat. I’ve known you long enough to realize you’d probably forget. When’re you getting a cell so I can bug you day and night?”

Zack let out a gurgle. “It’s still a work in progress. You know how things are.”

Kunsel hummed and nodded. “Well, I figured this might happen so I brought provisions… if you wanna stay in, that is.” He held up a bag Zack had previously missed.

“Ahh, yeah, that’d be great. It’s fucking freezing outside. I don’t wanna get dressed up.” Or be seen, really.

“Can you at least get dressed down. You’re still in your uniform.”

Zack looked down at himself in the khaki garb. “Yeah… man, I’m bushed. I just got home and sank into the couch.” He pointed. “Go sit down. Make yourself at home. I’ll wash up.”

And so Zack did. He went into the bedroom and grabbed comfortable slacks and a loose-fitting shirt from the dresser then made his way to the bed. 

_“When did you get a dog?”_ Kunsel said from the other room.

“A bit after I got moved.” He pulled his pants down to his thighs and sat on the edge of his bed to undo his leg.

 _“Why_ did _you get moved? I thought you were gonna stay at the barracks for a week and then go off to Fort Condor.”_

“Ah…” He played with the locking mechanism of his prosthesis. Kunsel was his best friend. Wouldn’t judge him. Would be concerned. He didn’t need anyone's concern or pity. He undid his leg and pulled it out of his pants leg and then set it aside. “Bosses figured it better to keep me here and do a bit more rehab.” It was true. He’d even been assigned a personal trainer at the barracks to help push him with his recovery exercises. “I’ll get moved to Condor early next year.”

Zack pulled his pants all the way off and grabbed his slacks. He looked at them with a heavy heart. Even getting changed was an effort nowadays. Either feed his prosthetic through, which took forever, or unlatch, pull on clothes, reattach and roll the pants down. Neither way seemed quicker than the other. He looked at his leg as it rested beside him on the bed. Leaving it off… wasn’t an option. 

_“Well, that’s good news for you then.”_

“Yep.” 

_“Are you using your time here wisely?”_

Zack frowned at the question. “Yeah. Of course.” He snapped his leg in place and got up. With a smile, he went back outside and saw Kunsel on the couch, with Bagel on his lap.

“So, the big question… the dog! Why and how? I thought you couldn’t have a pet ‘cause work made you move around so much. Are you going to stay here for the long haul?”

“She’s an assistance animal."

“What do you need assistance with?”

“Yanno. Just stuff.” Zack shrugged and went to the bathroom. “My psych wrote a letter saying it would be good for me to have company.”

_“Is she helping?”_

“She’s great, yeah.” Zack stood in front of the mirror and washed his hands and face in the sink. “She’s my special li’l lady.” He dried off and came back out. “Aren’tcha, Bagel?”

The beagle got off Kunsel, hopped down, and trotted over to Zack, who picked her up.

“Her tag says Stamp,” Kunsel observed.

“Yeah. That’s her legal name but when she got trained up to be an assistance animal she ate a whole box of bagels. Didn’t you, sweetness.” Zack patted her and went over to sit next to Kusnel. “I prefer her nickname. I think she likes it too, don’tcha, Bagely-wagely-woo. Don’tcha.” He pressed a kiss to her soft head and let her down onto the lounge before he sat down. 

Kunsel watched Bagel and then eyed Zack. “Interesting choice.”

“Huh?”

“Well, she’s only got three legs.”

Zack faked a double-take and with astonishment said, “No kidding! Bagel!” She bounced up to him. Zack picked her up and held her in front of himself. “My queen, what happened to your leg? Where did it go? It was just here yesterday!” She licked his face. Her tail wagged and made her whole body vibrate. Zack giggled and hugged her.

Kunsel chuckled. “I didn’t know amputated dogs could be assistance animals.”

“Amputee dogs can be anything they set their mind’s to being. Isn’t that right,” he cooed at Bagel. “We matched pretty well, so I decided to keep her. Plus, I really like her nickname. Did I ever tell you about Pumpkin?”

“Yeah. What about her?”

“Well, Pumpkin ate a whole pie and Bagel ate a whole box of bagels. It’s like destiny, ‘n’ shit.” He grinned at Kunsel and let Bagel hop off, but she stayed close and curled up next to him on the couch. “So what’s in the bag?” He nodded at the item on the small glass coffee table in front of them.

“Snacks.” Kunsel reached over and put the bag next to himself. “And Cissnei did up a care package for you.”

“Oooh! What’s in it?” Zack leaned over his best friend and grabbed the bag. Kunsel stayed his hand.

“Your Christmas presents. You can’t open them just yet.”

“Aww, c’moooon! _Please?”_ he whined. “Don’tcha wanna see my face light up when I rip into it?”

Kunsel laughed. “Tell you what, you get to open this—” He picked up the bag and sat it on his lap whilst he rummaged through it.

Zack tried to take a peek at the contents but Kunsel pulled the bag away from him.

“I’m gonna dig into it the moment you leave here.”

“That’s fine, but as long as I’m here you’re not gonna, got it?”

Zack snickered. “Got it, boss.”

“Here.” Kunsel handed him a carefully wrapped gift.

Zack ripped into it—“Oh, it’s a book.” His excitement waned. He read the words, Loveless. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a classic!”

“Yeah, but… what’s it about?”

“Three best friends who have to stop the world from ending.”

“Right. Cool. She knows I’m not gonna read it, right?” He put the book down on the coffee table.

Kunsel chuckled and dug around the bag after which he pulled out another gift, which wasn’t wrapped quite as neatly as the previous one. “I did get you the blu-ray version. It’s an action adventure. Stars no other than _the_ Genesis. It was his big debut as a movie actor—he’s been big on stage and theatres for years.”

“Someone sounds like they’ve got a crush,” Zack teased.

“Yeah. Cissnei didn’t stop talking my ear off about him. I now know all this useless Genesis trivia. His favorite fruit is dumbapples from the Banora region and he’s got a thing for winged creatures. Has a menagerie of doves or something. Anyway, point is, if Cissnei quizzes you about the book you can hopefully cover your ass by having watched the movie. And worst-case scenario you can get her talking about Genesis and she’ll lose all focus.” He laughed.

Zack chuckled and pulled Kunsel into a tight hug. He buried his nose into the crook of Kunsel’s neck. “This is why you’re my best friend and why I love you so much.” He pressed a kiss to Kunsel’s temple and let go.

“I’ve always got your back. But try and read the book. It’s a bestseller and really quite good. This version was adapted from the stage play so it’s a bit more Zack friendly.”

“Sure. No promises, but I’ll think about it.”

Kunsel huffed with laughter and shook his head. “We can watch the movie together if you’d like.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Zack looked at the movie cover and at the man front and center. “This guy… kinda looks familiar.”

“Yeah. He’s a big star now.”

“No like…” Zack wracked his brain. “Oh! Right! I think my uncle knows him. Genesis… hmm… Yeah.”

“Oh really? Your uncle… Angeal or…”

“Yeah, Angeal.”

“How would he know someone like Genesis? Angeal lives in the middle of nowhere.”

Zack shrugged. He’d never paid much attention to it. “Maybe… oh… did you say Banora?”

“Yeah, it’s where the dumbapples are from.”

“Ah, that must be it then. I think Angeal grew up there before he moved to Rocket Town. I think he learned to farm over there or whatever? Maybe they met during that time.”

Kunsel hummed thoughtfully. “How’s he doing anyway?”

“Who? Angeal?”

Kunsel nodded.

“Still living on his rusty old farm and disappointed over the help not being helpful.”

“He knows it’s because no one lives out at Rocket Town anymore, right?”

“Exactly! I told him that. Anyway, if Cissnei wants an autograph or something I can see if Angeal can arrange it. From what I remember Genesis was always this showy guy who’d drop everything to be front and center.”

Kunsel grinned. “If you could that would be awesome. I can hold on to it and use it if I get in hot water with her.”

They both laughed. 

Zack put the movie box on top of the book. “Alright. Good plan. It’s settled then. You owe me. Give me something else to unwrap.” He made grabby hands.

Kunsel chuckled. “Well, I think I can possibly part with one more thing but… well… I mean, it actually depends on one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Are you seeing Cloud?”

A cold lump of dread dropped into Zack’s stomach. His throat quickly constricted, and the wound in his chest he’d been trying to ignore ripped open. "Like… am I seeing him with my eyes, or…"

"I mean the _or._ Are you two dating or boyfriends? Doesn't look like he's living with you. So tell me, what's up with you two?"

"Ah… nothing's up." He hated to admit, but did so anyway.

Kunsel sighed. “Why not? Since you’re still here I thought you’d jump at the opportunity.”

“I… I don’t have his number. I lost it. He gave it to me but I lost it.”

“And there’s no way you can’t get it from somewhere? You could talk to Aerith. She got you flower deliveries from Cloud couldn’t she—”

“I’ve lost it and that’s it,” Zack snapped. Uncomfortable heat rose in his chest and a tremble built in his arms. Bagel rolled over and nuzzled against Zack’s leg. He breathed out and laid a hand on her soft fur and scratched her lightly.

“Buddy,” Kunsel said, his voice heavy. He sighed. “The only thing you’ve lost is your confidence. You love this guy, and he probably loves you too—” Zack cringed and something stabbed in his chest. “You should tell him. Just rip off the bandaid and get it out in the open,” Kunsel finished.

Zack tried to find words but nothing came to mind, so his mouth flapped. He gave up with a sigh and looked down at Bagel, beside him, all three of her legs in the air as he rubbed her belly. She looked so happy. So unaware of what she no longer had. Zack envied that.

“Well, okay. I think it’s safe to give this to you then.” Kunsel held out an envelope.

Zack snapped out of his thoughts and took the item. He held it with both hands. Bagel rolled over and put her head on his thigh, with an offended look in her eyes over the rubs having stopped. He gave her a quick pat and warily opened the envelope, utterly suspicious instead of excited.

“I kind of hoped I wouldn’t have to give this to you, but you’ve lost your mojo and I think you’ve got massive body-confidence issues so, I hope this’ll help get some of that back.”

Zack pulled out a collection of leaflets—personal ads: explicit and suggestive images alike, lists of ‘services’ and their prices. Zack dropped it like it burned. “What the fuck, man? What’s all of this? I don’t need prostitutes.”

“They’re called sex workers and it’s a completely reputable profession and a perfectly normal service. Unlike in other places it’s legalized here.”

“You did your research, huh.”

“Always do. Wouldn’t want to give you something that would land you in hot water. I’ve got your back. You know that.”

He _did_ know that. “Thanks, but no thanks, Kun. I don’t _need_ something like this.” With repugnance he picked up the envelope and the leaflets and threw them onto the coffee table. Papers scattered and flew around.

“Come on. You haven’t been with anyone since last year. This isn’t like you. You enjoy sex. The fact that you’ve gone this long without any…” He frowned. “I thought it was the hospital but you've been out for a month. I thought you’d have gotten together with Cloud, but you haven’t. So… as I see it, you either stop pining over Cloud and get your dick wet, or you _get_ your dick wet so you _can_ go out there and claim the man of your dreams."

The man of his dreams. Was Cloud really that to him? He couldn’t think of wanting to be with anyone right now. He missed Cloud a whole awful lot. “You’re way too invested in my dick, you know that?”

Kunsel chuckled. “I just want to see you happy. Sex was always a big part of your happiness.”’

“I don’t want to pay for sex.” He barely kept the snap out of his voice.

“And you wouldn’t be. If you check the envelope I’ve put a credit card in there for you. I know you can’t pay for this kind of thing with your work card so I got you a special one. You’ve got a limit of two thousand on it. I’m happy for you to spend the whole lot in one go or over however long you want.”

Zack looked at Kunsel. His mouth agape. He groaned and buried his head in his hands. Zack's thoughts ran around, preoccupied with how unattractive he felt, mentally examining every flaw his body possessed. The leg was a big one, of course. His scarred torso and limbs, another. The blemish on his cheek was always apparent. His overall muscle-tone still wasn’t anywhere close to what it had been, even at his most unfit. He had flab on his stomach. Even as he slouched he could feel it. He sat up straighter. “Again, thanks, but no thanks, Kun. I don’t need it.”

“I think you do, but it’s your choice. You're an attractive guy, Zack, trust me, I know. You losing a leg doesn’t change that. And Cloud didn't even know you before all of this happened, and he still likes you.”

How could Cloud like him when he… didn’t even like himself. Zack sighed.

“Anyway,” Kunsel continued. “Just keep it, in case you change your mind. And if you never use it that’s fine too. Just cut it up and toss the card in the trash, okay?”

Zack nodded slowly, lost for words. He didn’t want to think of any either.

“So, let’s order takeout and watch this movie. I also have a bag of snacks.”

“Twizzlers,” Zack asked weakly.

“Yeah.”

That brought a smile to his face.

* * *

They sat on the couch and watched Loveless while the now-empty takeout containers were spread on the coffee table. Being with Kunsel felt insanely comfortable and nostalgic. But every time Zack moved he was reminded that things weren’t the same as when they had spent every waking and sleeping moment together.

The familiar-yet-simultaneously-foreignness of this feeling made him think about how if he had known what would befall him in the future he would have squeezed every ounce of goodness out of his existence back when he’d still been whole. While he did think that he had lived a great life he could still identify so many missed opportunities where he could have done more. That realization built into towering pillars of regrets. He didn't like feeling that or thinking about it. To distract from it he scooched close to Kunsel, who put an arm around his shoulder just like in the past. Zack knew Kunsel to always be available for cuddles. That hadn’t changed in all these years.

He leaned and nuzzled into his best friend. He missed physical contact. He missed having the comfortable knowledge that everyone had always thought well of him and didn’t judge him. But now with his limb difference… He knew Kunsel wouldn’t judge him. He felt like Cloud wouldn’t either. But he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to face Cloud naked. He still struggled facing himself like that. Having to change at the barracks lockers after training was… just awful. He found nooks to hide in, like a fugitive. It was terrible enough to keep him from doing more training sessions, which he knew would negatively impact him in the long run. And that in turn annoyed the shit out of him.

Despite the cuddles and the visual stimulus of the movie on the TV he still had his thoughts run wild in his head. And that hurt and tired him. He nodded off against Kunsel’s comfortable warmth.

He woke up toward the end of the movie to hear Kunsel’s quiet sobs. The sniffles and tremble went right into Zack’s body. He roused with alarm. “You okay, bud?”

Kunsel sniffled. “Yeah. It’s just the movie. The end of Loveless always gets me good. The movie is so damned good. No wonder Genesis won a truckload of awards for his performance in this.”

Zack relaxed and chuckled gently. “You softy.” He gave Kunsel a big hug and went to get them both a drink from the kitchen.

When he came back and sat down, Kunsel accepted the drink with a, “Thanks,” and took a sip. “What’re you doing over Christmas? You’ll be on cycle break, right?” 

“Uh… yeah, cycle break starts in two weeks. I’ve been given leave. Nothing really to do. Will you be here?”

“Nah. We’re going to Cissnei’s family this year. Denzel and Betty really miss you. You wanna come over?”

“I’d love to, man. I haven’t seen your little tykes since they came up to my knees. Mom’s planning things though. She’s getting my whole family over for a vacation of sorts and we’re gonna have Christmas at some fancy hotel or something? There’s also a couple of hail and farewell’s I’ve committed to. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“What about Cloud? Will you see him over Christmas?”

Zack gave Kunsel _a look_. “Don’t start. Cloud’s not even gonna be here for Christmas. He’s going back home.” _To spend time with_ General _Sephiroth_ , he thought as a cruel aside.

“You’ve got to do something about this situation, bud. I’m trying to help you as much as I can. Use the present, okay? And if you don’t want to do anything with a stranger I’m always here for you too.”

Zack was touched. He really was. “I still think you’re weird for how invested you are in my libido.”

“I just want to see you be yourself again. I really do think you’ll feel better if you just get it on with someone. Preferably Cloud, obviously.”

Zack chuckled to try and shake the uncomfortable knot out of his gut. “I’ll… think about it.”

“Definitely do. Also tell me where you’ll be stationed so I can organize my work around it.”

“You don’t have to babysit me.”

“I think I do.” He grinned.

Kunsel didn’t stay for much longer after that. They said goodnight and hugged for a long moment. Kunsel really was one of his most favorite people in the world and it wasn’t just because of all the history they shared.

“Remember to call me and make your move on Cloud already.”

Zack chuckled. “I will, I will.” He definitely would. Lucky for him Kunsel hadn’t put a timeframe on it though. 

He was sad to see Kunsel go—sad to turn around to his near-empty apartment. He decided to drown it out with the TV. So he sat on the couch and flicked through the TV channels for a while. The programs he used to watch with Cloud felt like nails hammered into his chest. He still watched some of them though and when he couldn’t concentrate on them any longer he went through the presents Kunsel and Cissnei had gotten him: a bundle of socks and underwear. Zack chuckled and was relieved. He’d been running low. And had a terrible habit of not buying those things for himself. He also looked through the various snacks—candies and savory foods that weren’t readily available in this city. Zack really appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gifts and got stuck into the snack bags. 

While he ate and mindlessly stared at the TV he also glanced over at the envelope which lay on the coffee table. He reached out for it a couple of times, but recoiled. He looked over at his trash can. He should dispose of it. He’d never had to pay for sex in the past. He wasn’t about to start. He wasn’t desperate enough. He didn’t want other people to see him. What would they think? Though in the back of his head a thought rolled around that they would probably have seen a lot and probably were least likely to care, or say anything to his face. But the fact that they might still possibly _think_ —he stood up, grabbed the envelope, stuffed the scattered papers back into it, and walked it… to his bedroom, where he shoved it into the deepest, darkest recesses of his bedside stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter -  
> [Give Myself To You by Train](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-NWQh3sZes)
> 
> Please take note that this chapter is setting up exactly what you are (hopefully) thinking will happen in the next chapter. Just want to make sure everyone’s expectations are set accordingly. 
> 
> On a different note though, where there is Kunsel there is porn! Have some explicit Zakkun | Zunsel content which, as always, can be found over on [my tumblr.](https://creamypudding.tumblr.com/Kintsukuroi-ch18-Zunsel-couch)
> 
> I'm so thrilled to be able to introduce you guys to Bagel the Beagle. I wrote her in before the Remake happened and then SE dropped Stamp on us and I was just... 'well, this is too bloody perfect but I am married to the name 'Bagel'.' So I gave Stamp, AKA Bagel a backstory with the nickname which is more or less her name now. She originally also had four legs but then one day I saw a beagle walk past with only three legs and it was like ‘meant to be’. And it’s meant to be for Zack to meet her like that too. ❤️
> 
> One more fortnight and we're back to a weekly update schedule. How exciting is that?! Hopefully I'll manage to get the last chapter polished before that happens 🤭
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated even if I don't respond or take my sweet time to respond. Sometimes the tank is just empty. And I totally get you guys feeling like that too when it comes to the commenting department. So all's good 👍
> 
> An aside... I got this beautiful gift in the mail today (amazingly serendipitous considering today's fic title). A huge shout out and thank you to Prurient_curiosity 😭😭😭 I will fill it with zinnia and forget-me-not flower heads when they eventually bloom 💖  
> 


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